Title: Strange Bedfellows
By: Orithain and Rina
Pairing: Gabriel/Crowley
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimers: No infringement is intended.
Note: The first part is set long before the series, in the year 800 CE. Sorry for any name confusion but Crowley is so not a Frankish or Roman name. So... Rotbertus = Crowley; Loki = Gabriel
Summary: Tricksters and demons actually have a lot in common. Archangels and demons... well, it depends on the archangel.

Claiming a need to meditate in solitude, Leo had made his way from the camp, several guards in a distant circle around him. His friend Charlemagne had not been best pleased by Leo’s insistence, but the former pope and current fugitive had been emphatic that he required time to pray. Several of the Frankish king’s soldiers had checked the area and declared it safe, so now, finally, Leo was alone. Little did any of them know that the greatest danger would come from the empty crossroads a little ways away from the quiet spot where Leo knelt shivering.

Moonlight silvered the snow, turning the mundane field into a thing of beauty, but Leo was blind to the sight as he pushed slowly to his feet and walked to the crossroads. He regarded the rutted, bare patch of earth slowly being covered by snow with trepidation and wondered if he was truly going to do this.

He, Leo III, anointed Vicar of Christ, though currently deposed, was contemplating making a deal with the devil, even if for the noblest of causes, the protection of the Church and the Holy Roman Empire itself.

"Truly," he mused, "Hell must be full of the souls of those who also intended only the best. But is not my poor soul a small price for such a goal?"

He squared his shoulders and stepped to the center of the crossroads, where he cut his palm and squeezed out thirteen drops of blood, one each for Christ and his Apostles.

"It does seem a bargain," a male voice agreed in an educated voice, causing Leo to turn abruptly. He took in the sight of a tall, dark-haired, dark-eyed man draped in rich, fur-lined robes standing in what a moment before had been an empty spot and paled.

"So tell me what you want, and we’ll see if we can seal the bargain," the stranger urged.

"How do I know you can assist me?" Leo demanded suspiciously, and the man laughed, the sound sharp on the night air. His eyes turned black as the night sky, as his soul, and Leo made the sign of the cross instinctively.

"None of that now," the demon said sharply. "You came to me, remember."

"Yes," Leo said faintly, then repeated it more firmly. "I wish to be reinstated as pope and to crown Charlemagne as the Holy Roman Emperor," he stated.

"Very well," the demon agreed, snapping his fingers and then offering a sheet of papyrus to the clearly terrified pope. "Sign this, and then we’ll seal it, and you’ll be done."

Leo accepted the document in a shaking hand and read through the conditions of the deal before nodding his agreement. A quill already dipped in ink was proffered, and he signed it, as did the demon immediately afterward.

"H-how do I seal it?" Leo asked. "I see no wax."

The demon laughed again. "We seal it with a kiss."

"What? No!" Leo exclaimed, backing away several steps.

"No kiss, no deal," the demon informed him with a smirk.

Leo hesitated, but in the end, he couldn’t balk now, and he stepped forward again, tilting his face to press a kiss of peace to the demon’s lips, a kiss that the demon immediately seized control of and deepened as the hapless pope attempted to push him away. Only when the demon was satisfied did he release Leo, who leaped back.

"See you in ten years," the demon called mockingly after the fleeing man.

Slowly mocking applause filled the spaces in the air left by the swirling snow. "Bravo," a voice called as the applause stopped.

The demon whirled around, shocked at being taken by surprise, and pure black eyes focused on the wiry, light-haired man who had spoken.

"Who are you?"

"Someone who knows just what you are." The other man strolled closer, heedless of the snow, amusement clearly visible in his amber eyes. "So just what did old Leo want?"

The demon shrugged, though he still watched the newcomer warily. "He wanted to be pope again and for his supporter to be emperor. Of course, he forgot to specify lasting change."

"Very prettily done," the other man chuckled. "The only constant is change, and you have a part in maintaining that, something that I appreciate most heartily."

"And you are?" the demon asked again.

"Loki, perhaps you’re acquainted with my work?"

The demon’s eyes widened and bled back to their usual brown. "I’ve been very impressed by your achievements. Your pantheon has so much more interesting gods than mine."

"We have something in common with that belief," Loki chuckled. "Sadly, yours does seem to be making encroachments in much of the world."

"It’s that whole insistence on being the only one," the demon replied cheerfully. "Eliminating the competition makes things so much easier."

"Yes, it does, doesn’t it," Loki murmured. "And who might I have the pleasure of addressing?"

"Ah, forgive my lack of manners." The demon gave a shallow bow. "You may call me Rotbertus."

"A pleasure, Rotbertus," Loki smiled, returning the bow. "Care to join me somewhere out of the weather to share a flagon?"

After casting an appreciative gaze over the Norse god, Rotbertus inclined his head in acquiescence. "I should be delighted. Did you have any particular location in mind?"

"I have rooms in the city."

"That sounds delightful. Unless you’d care to make a deal first?" the demon suggested with a chilling smile.

"You should trust me when I say that there is nothing that you could offer me that I can’t get for myself," Loki replied, his smile equal parts amused and mocking.

"I find that very hard to believe, Loki. Everyone wants something." Rotbertus’ smile heated, offering every imaginable pleasure, and Loki’s sandy eyebrows rose slightly before his smile hardened.

"Believe it."

Looking intrigued, the demon took a step closer and pressed a kiss to the lips so conveniently at nearly the exact height of his own. "Nothing?" he breathed a moment later.

"Mmm, nice, though that I can get without offering anything up in payment," Loki mused though he did take advantage of the moment and steal another kiss.

Rotbertus chuckled, his hands now resting on the Viking god’s hips. "I’m not averse to doing something simply for the pleasure of it," he said in a near purr, the pink tip of his tongue slowly dragging over his lips.

"Well then," Loki’s smile was as demonic as Rotbertus’ nature, "I believe we should move to my quarters in that case."

"That sounds like an excellent plan to me," Rotbertus agreed. "After you then."

"Perhaps we should simply go together." Loki reached out, caught Rotbertus by the shoulder of his robe, and suddenly they were in a well-appointed set of rooms.

"Very nice," the demon approved, looking around at the luxuriously comfortable furnishings, all of which invited sybaritic exploration. "I couldn’t have done better myself."

"I know." That said, Loki pulled Rotbertus in for another kiss, this one longer and deeper, their tongues sliding together with growing intensity. Although initially startled to have someone else be the aggressor, Rotbertus quickly decided he liked it, and he slid his arms around Loki’s waist to draw them flush against one another while the kiss continued to deepen.

"Mmm, very nice," Loki murmured, sliding one hand up Rotbertus’ back, feeling the clenching of strong muscles beneath his robes. The other hand tangled in the demon’s short, dark hair, pulling him back just enough so that he could nip at his lower lip, making him groan his pleasure.

The demon’s hands moved over Loki’s body, exploring the muscular expanse and not coincidentally unfastening his garments, Loki chuckling as he leaned back, smirked, and simply caused Rotbertus’ clothes to vanish so that his hands skidded over now bare flesh.

After blinking in surprise, Rotbertus chuckled throatily. "I’m beginning to see that I should have made an effort to meet a god sooner."

"Some of us are much more accommodating than your God," Loki nodded before his own clothes vanished as well.

"Hardly mine," Rotbertus replied emphatically. "I’m definitely on the other side... which has the advantage of absentee leadership," he added smugly. "It’s a lot more fun that way." As he spoke, he settled himself against Loki’s naked form, their matching heights making them fit together perfectly.

"But still, you can’t argue that he’s the god of your pantheon—not liking him doesn’t mean you can disown him; if that was the case, I would gladly be rid of several members of mine."

Rotbertus snorted. "At least you have methods of dealing with them. And there are enough of them to distract each other so you can go your own way."

"Are you saying that you’re persecuted?" Loki asked, arching his hips forward against Rotbertus’.

"Do I look like someone who would allow himself to be persecuted?" the demon chuckled. His hands slid down to cup Loki’s ass, letting them grind together.

"No, you don’t look like a martyr... or feel like one either."

"So what do I feel like?" Rotbertus purred, lowering his head slightly to lay a line of sucking kisses along Loki’s jaw.

"Someone quite ready for sex; never the case with martyrs." Loki tilted his head to allow Rotbertus more access, his hands closing on the demon’s ass as their cocks slid together.

"Martyrs are boring, no fight in ‘em." Rotbertus let Loki feel his teeth, not breaking the skin but reminding the god of who and what he was.

"You just are annoyed that you can’t tempt them into a deal." Loki’s voice had dropped, and his hips thrust reflexively against the demon’s body at the edge of pain.

"People who play hard are more fun," Rotbertus agreed before biting again in a new spot.

"And playing hard with beings that can survive it is even better."

The demon laughed. "I can take a hint." This time his teeth sank in just enough to break the skin, and his tongue lapped at the blood that welled up while his fingers slid between Loki’s cheeks to tease the sensitive ring of muscle.

"Who would have thought demons could be so agreeable," Loki chuckled, though it came out more like a moan as his whole body shuddered at the sensations.

"And what would you know about demons?" Rotbertus replied, sounding amused. "We don’t exist in your pantheon." One fingertip breeched Loki, pressing the merest fraction inside him.

"Oh, one hears things; you know how beings like to gossip, and I always keep an ear open for the way the wind’s blowing."

"Ah, so that’s how you pass your time, gossiping," the demon chuckled as his finger slid a little deeper.

"It pays to keep up with what is going on in other pantheons," Loki shrugged, the move causing his body to clench down around Rotbertus’ fingertip.

"I prefer the hands-on approach."

"Yes, I noticed that about you." The god commented dryly, earning himself a second finger inside him. Both fingers began to move, no longer content to simply fill him but now pressing deeper and crooking.

Loki arched his back and widened his stance, a sudden slickness within his body allowing Rotbertus’ fingers to slide deeper within him.

"Nice," the demon approved, now tapping lightly on the sensitive spot that he knew would arouse the Norse god even more.

"Helpful," Loki corrected, his voice tight. "I’m no nicer than you are."

"Enjoyable then," Rotbertus chuckled. "And efficient."

"A much better description."

"I aim to please." The demon snickered as his fingertips continued to tease at that same spot inside Loki, changing his snort into a groan of pleasure.

"Aiming to fuck would be better now," he growled, and Rotbertus laughed.

"Demanding, aren’t you?" He didn’t seem to mind, however, since a moment later the fingers were gone, they were on the bed, and his cock was sliding into Loki, the god grunting in pleasure at the fullness, his fingers digging into Rotbertus’ back and sides as they slammed together.

"Mmm, good," the demon purred just before catching Loki’s mouth in a deep, hungry kiss. The god plainly agreed, driving them both on with his motions as his mouth remained locked with Rotbertus’. The demon gradually increased his pace, their fucking as primal and untamed as either of them. The bedclothes tore beneath them, and Loki arched upward, tightening around the thick length filling him, on the edge and wanting to drag Rotbertus over with him.

Rotbertus groaned harshly, the sound ragged even muffled by Loki’s mouth, and the strength of his thrusts increased as he fought to get even deeper before he shuddered, his body locking in a spasm of overwhelming pleasure as he came. Loki’s pleasure followed hard on his heels, the god spasming beneath him, arms and legs locking them together with inhuman strength before he collapsed back against the bed beneath them, a sly smile curving his lips as he panted for breath.

"Mmm, you are quite good at that."

"You’re pretty good yourself," Rotbertus agreed. "I definitely need to spend more time with gods if there are others like you at home."

Loki chuckled and stretched beneath the demon. "I think you’ll find that there’s no one like me."

"Somehow I find that very easy to believe." Rotbertus lowered his head to kiss Loki leisurely, the god relaxing under him and sighing with pleasure.

"Besides, they all aren’t so... accommodating as I am."

"And I do like accommodating," the demon chuckled. "I wouldn’t mind repeating this."

"Now?" Loki’s grin was knife-sharp.

"That too," Rotbertus agreed, rocking down into him again. "Unless you’d like to switch positions?"

"Damned right I do," Loki laughed, managing to flip them over and seat himself between Rotbertus’ thighs in one swift move, the god’s and the demon’s laughter filling the room as they took their pleasure.


"Loki." The demon greeted the god with every evidence of pleasure. "It’s been a long while. I’d begun to think that the spread of Christianity and that delightful Inquisition had put an end to you."

The god shuddered delicately before reaching over, picking up the demon’s glass of wine, and raising it to his lips to drain it. "Hardly," he snorted, setting the glass back in its place, "I’ve just moved around somewhat."

"I’m delighted to hear it. And are you still calling yourself Loki, or have you updated to something more modern? I personally am going by Crowley now, have been since Elizabethan times."

"In public or in private?" Loki chuckled. "And Crowley, eh? Well, it’s easier on the tongue. Keeping yourself busy?"

Crowley smirked. "I love it when someone decides they know God’s will. The last year under Cromwell has been almost as good as the Inquisition years."

"I wonder if your God even knows His own will," Loki snorted. "It doesn’t sound like He does to me."

"He’s not my God," Crowley pointed out. "I’m on the other side."

"Your religion, your god," Loki responded. "You can’t exist without the other."

"Yes, well, fortunately, he seems to be an absentee landlord."

"It has to make your duties much simpler—temptation without any chance of retribution."

Crowley smirked. "Which leaves me more time to play."

"Something I’m quite familiar with." The god’s smile turned sultry, and he lifted Crowley’s suddenly full glass to sip from it.

"I remember," Crowley purred before retrieving his glass to take a drink. "Although it’s been a while so perhaps we should refresh our memories?" he suggested.

"It would be our pleasure," Loki smirked. "Your place this time? I’m just passing through."

Crowley chuckled. "Would that be why that group of Roundheads got lost in a fog and ended up attacking each other rather than the noble family who escaped?" Even as he spoke, he was making his way toward the exit, Loki at his side.

"Are you saying I had anything to do with that?" Loki asked innocently. "Just because they were pompous asses..."

Chuckling again, Crowley slid an arm around Loki’s waist once they were outside, and a moment later they were in his country house, naked and pressed together as Crowley took Loki’s mouth.

The sun was rising, illuminating the interior of the once immaculate room, a room which now looked as if a battle had taken place within its confines. "It’s a good thing I’m leaving the continent, or your home might not survive," Loki chuckled as he stretched out on top of Crowley.

"It’s replaceable," the demon informed him in tones of blissful satiation. "Though the country might be a little less so," he added with a chuckle.

"I may be heading to the New World myself in time," Crowley said after a moment. "It seems ripe with opportunity."

"That it is," Loki assured him, "and while my pantheon is out of power, there are ways to insert yourself into others."

"You are very good at inserting yourself," Crowley agreed with a low chuckle.

"A trait you share, and we both give full value from the other end, of course."

"Of course. It’s a matter of pride."

"And skill, of course," Loki added, nipping Crowley’s lower lip before standing and stretching.

"A great deal of skill," Crowley agreed, watching Loki’s show with enjoyment. "If I ever get there, I’ll be sure to look you up."

"I’ll be looking forward to it." A snap of his fingers had Loki clothed, and he leaned in over Crowley to drop a quick, harsh kiss on his mouth. "Play nice with your toys; we don’t want you to break them all." He winked at the supine demon, then vanished.


Crowley sat behind his new desk, in a new house, nearly stupefied from what he’d learned from his continued spying on the Winchester brothers.

"Loki!" he roared.

"You rang?" the words were voiced in an amused tone before Loki—or the archangel Gabriel—appeared in the doorway. "How’re they hanging, Crowley?"

"You’re the fucking archangel Gabriel?!"

"Hey, don’t hold that against me; I left home a long time before we even met."

"Fucking hell." Crowley eyed him. "You are nothing like Michael or Raphael, nothing like I would have expected."

"Nothing like Lucifer either," Gabriel pointed out.

"Gabriel," Crowley said again, still sounding stunned. "Well, fuck me."

"Is that a comment or a request?" Gabriel chuckled. "And you’re one to talk, giving the Colt to the Winchesters—for all the good it did them."

"I thought it would work," Crowley protested.

"Lucifer isn’t a demon, as you well know," Gabriel snorted, walking into the office and looking around before spotting a crystal decanter of Scotch and pouring himself a glass.

"How was I supposed to know that being a fallen angel was really that different? He’s the source of demons, so I thought that we had the same powers and weaknesses, just in lesser degrees, and that the stories of him being so different were just his way of making himself sound superior."

"I don’t think Lucifer needs to pump himself up," Gabriel said dryly.

"Well, I know that now."

"So, what do you plan to do about it?"

"Do about it?" Crowley snorted. "Every demon in Hell and on Earth is looking for me. I’m going to fucking hide!"

Gabriel glanced around at the classically expensive office and snorted. "In plain sight?"

"Not for much longer," Crowley admitted. "I’m going to have to crawl under a rock soon."

"Sounds cozy," Gabriel smirked. "Want some company?"

Crowley’s eyebrows rose. "You are a very unusual archangel. And as long as you’re not changing, sure. It’ll be a lot more fun under that rock that way."

"I’m sure between the two of us we can make it nice and cozy."

"Steamy at the very least."

Gabriel chuckled at that. "Might as well enjoy the end of the world, right?"

"No wonder you can’t seem to stay away from those Winchesters."

"They’re fun to play with, not that they listen worth shit. They want me to take a stand against my brothers—can you imagine anything more insane?"

"That sounds suicidal, and you never struck me as that type. Then again, there seems to be a lot I don’t know about you."

"I’ve survived this long by laying low, keeping out of my brothers’ sights. Well, now that’s all fucked to hell, but I really don’t want to hasten my own demise or conscription into Michael’s army, so I’m staying as far away from this as I can." Gabriel’s expression tightened as he remembered the accusations Dean had thrown at him while he stood trapped in the circle of holy fire, but he remained unswayed.

"Smart choice," Crowley agreed. "It’s exactly what I would do too. Survival of the fittest."

"Exactly." Gabriel’s smirk held a certain tightness, but it was barely visible.

"Well, then, time to find that rock, I think. I have a bolt hole ready, but I should warn you that it’s rather lacking in the amenities."

"I’m sure that between the two of us, we can fix that," Gabriel promised.

"Or I might simply distract you so that you don’t even notice."

"Oh, horrors, whatever shall I do?"


"So why aren’t we there?"

"We are," Crowley pointed out with a smirk a bare instant later.

Gabriel looked around at the small, generic apartment, and shrugged. "Not quite your style, safer that way."

"Exactly. No one would ever look for me here." In the blink of an eye, the dapper businessman that was Crowley’s usual guise was replaced by a relaxed man in jeans and t-shirt that highlighted his fit body far better than his usual suits ever could.

"Aww, look at you, all relaxed and joining the common folk," Gabriel chuckled, catching Crowley by the hem of his t-shirt and pulling him in for a kiss.

About to justify his attire, Crowley abandoned the attempt in favor of the far more pleasurable pastime of kissing Gabriel. The clothes he’d just put on vanished just as rapidly, accompanied by Gabriel’s, and then his hands were moving over the naked expanse of the archangel’s back and ass. Gabriel’s laughter morphed into a pleasured sigh, and he rubbed against Crowley, their similar heights making it easy to connect the full length of their bodies.

The bed was too far away for Crowley’s liking, so he flashed them to it, sprawling atop Gabriel so he could reacquaint himself with the lean body.

"Life on the run suits you, Crowley," Gabriel murmured, stroking his hands up the demon’s back.

"How fortunate considering I don’t seem to have any alternatives at the moment. They burned down my house and ate my tailor!"

"Why exactly do you need a tailor anyway?" Gabriel asked after a moment. "It’s not as if you can’t create your own clothes."

"He amused me."

"Was he cute?"

Crowley snorted. "He was short and had thinning hair, but he had pretty brown eyes. And he was totally flaming at the same time as being more closeted than anyone I’ve ever seen."

"Sucks to be him."

"Considering he was eaten, yes."

"I could bring him back if you really needed his talents," Gabriel offered.

Crowley contemplated the offer before shaking his head. "No, he’d be too freaked out to be of any use. I don’t need a tailor who drools on me."

"As well as blowing your cover," Gabriel pointed out before arching up beneath Crowley. "Is there a reason we’re talking instead of fucking?"

"Foreplay?" Crowley suggested an instant before his mouth covered Gabriel’s and his cock nudged at Gabriel’s entrance, the tight muscle growing slick and allowing him entrance as Gabriel purred beneath him.

"So much better than humans," Crowley rasped, his eyes going heavy-lidded as he pushed into Gabriel, burying himself to the hilt in one sure stroke.

"Or your own mind," Gabriel murmured, arching up to meet each stroke as he caught Crowley’s mouth in a deep kiss before the demon could comment on that, though he made a mental note to revisit it later; it sounded interesting. Just then, however, he was far more interested in fucking Gabriel, their bodies taking over as they pounded together.

Inhuman nature meant they lasted far longer than would have seemed possible, but finally Gabriel let himself go, his body clenching down around Crowley’s as he spurted between them, his fingers dragging angry red marks over the demon’s back.

The pain in his back just aroused Crowley even more, and he bit Gabriel’s shoulder, tasting blood, as his own climax ripped through him in an almost painful rush.

"Oh yeah," Gabriel sighed when Crowley finally collapsed over him. "That was as good as I remember."

Crowley chuckled, his face tucked into the hollow of Gabriel’s shoulder. "I think it might be even better."

"Only think? Babe, you haven’t seen anything yet," Gabriel smirked.

"Then I’m looking forward to seeing the rest of it," Crowley retorted, licking his lips as he raised his head.

"We’ll just have to get in as much as we can before the world goes ‘boom’ because of my brothers."

"I would really love to see both of your brothers thrown into a hole, never to be seen again," Crowley snarled.

"It would make things easier," Gabriel nodded.

"But that’s hardly likely to happen. Though those Winchesters have surprised me from time to time, so I suppose it’s not impossible."

"Just highly improbable; you haven’t met my brothers."

"Obviously, or I wouldn’t still be here."

"So we’ll just keep you safe here for as long as possible."

"My own personal archangelic bodyguard?" Crowley barked a laugh.

Sandy eyebrows waggled before Gabriel winked. "I’m always happy to guard your body."

Crowley snorted. "Is that we’re calling it now?"

"Would you rather I come up with something in a different language? I’m sure that would fill several days."

"Why don’t we just take turns filling each other instead?" Crowley suggested. "I’m sure that could occupy us for a while."

"Didn’t we just do that?" Gabriel laughed. "Not that I’m tired of it yet."

"Would you rather play Parcheesi?"

"Maybe in a week or so. Now if you had said Monopoly..."

Crowley laughed. "I think you ended up on the wrong side."

"The only side I like is my own," Gabriel snorted.

"Even better. Let’s figure out how to get rid of them all and take over the world ourselves."

"Tempting," Gabriel mused, "but I like it the way it is. I think we both play too rough with our toys to take on the whole world."

"Oh fine, if you’re going to be logical about it..." Crowley smirked at him. "So it’s squarely back on you to entertain me."

"A fate worse than death." Gabriel grinned and nipped at Crowley’s lower lip, then proceeded to provide entertainment for the both of them.


"You’re really going to crash this little gathering of gods?" Crowley asked. "Gods," he snorted disdainfully. "I’m more powerful than most of these so-called gods."

"Would you rather they serve Dean and Sam up to my brother for an appetizer? I mean, we know its coming; I’d rather not hurry it along."

"I hate it when you make sense," Crowley grumbled. "If you get yourself killed, I’m going to be pissed."

"Relax," the archangel chuckled, "I’ll get the Winchesters and get out of there. Like you said, there’s really no one who can stop me there..."

Shaking his head, Crowley gave up, knowing no one could argue with the stubborn archangel once he’d made up his mind. "Fine, but get that very attractive ass of yours back here as soon as you’re done so I can remind you what you missed."

"Mmm," Gabriel smirked as he pulled Crowley in for a good grope and kiss, "I’ll be looking forward to it. Don’t let anyone exorcise you while I’m gone."

"Hurry home, honey," Crowley said, his usual smirk on his face, but once Gabriel vanished, so did Crowley’s smile. "Good luck," he said softly to the empty air.


Next part in series - Two Million, Six Hundred Fourteen Thousand, Nine Hundred and Eighty.