gummiwolf | Happy Mother's Day

Title: Happy Mother's Day
Fandom: Supernatural
Author: Kat
Rating: T
Chars/Pairs: Bobby Singer/Crowley
Genre: AU, Crack, Mpreg, Holiday
Warnings: None
Word Count: 437
Summary: Crowley gave birth to their son and now feels entitled to presents.
A/N: For

vexed_wench. This is a little tidbit from my alternate universe (Sessions 'verse) where Crowley and Bobby have a son together and are going through couples counseling.
Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural. I do not make any money from this fanfic whatsoever.

Bobby Singer woke up abruptly when his bed partner pushed him out of bed with his foot.

“What the hell was that for?” he said from his spot on the floor, looking up at the demon still in their bed.

“Good morning, Robert.” Crowley looked too damn smug for this to be anything good. Bobby promptly crawled back into his warm bed, causing Crowley to frown.

“Don’t tell me you’ve forgot?”

“Forgot what?” Bobby ground out as he made himself comfortable.

“It’s Mother’s Day.” The King of Hell sounded downright petulant.

“So?” Bobby was fairly certain Crowley had finally lost his marbles.

“So, you didn’t get me anything?”

Ah hell, there is that cranky voice that comes right before bodies start exploding. “You’re not my mother!”

“But I’m the mother of our child, Robert!”

Bobby finally looked at Crowley again. “You gotta pick one or the other. You can’t pull this crap on Mother’s Day, after pulling it on Father’s Day last year.”

“Why not?”

“Why…” Bobby started, then stopped and rubbed his temples. He knew there were times when there was no reasoning with the demon and this was one of them. “For one, Hallmark doesn’t exactly make a card for the demonic co-parent that birthed our offspring and two, what on earth does one get the King of Hell who has everything?” The last part was slightly sarcastic.

Crowley pulled a pouty but thoughtful expression that had to be fake. “Really, Robert, don’t they say it is the thought that counts? Couldn’t you have at least tried? Do I mean so little to you?”

Bobby rolled his eyes.

“You really didn’t get me anything did you?” Crowley raised his voice in genuine surprise and displeasure.

“Keep your voice down.” Bobby sighed. “Yes, I got you something. After that crap you pulled at Father’s Day, I decided I should be prepared.” The old hunter got out of bed and walked to his closet. After some digging, he pulled out a box. He brought it to Crowley and crawled back into bed.

Crowley frowned at the newspaper comics wrapping paper, before quickly opening his gift. He was stunned. “It’s… It’s a crystal decanter in the shape of a skull.” Crowley was unsure of how to react.

“Yeah, there are some glasses too, fancy etched nonsense, but I couldn’t get them to fit in the box.”

“I… I see.”

“Yeah, I figure since you keep spending all this time here, you should have something more you around.”

“Ah.” Crowley couldn’t argue that his gift was at least thoughtful, but he was left stunned at Bobby’s sense of style.