Work Text:
Dean had heard his fair share of creepy stories over the course of his career flipping houses. Just a building being around long enough, it seemed, was a good reason for people to start believing there was something strange going in when it was just - life that had gone by in its walls. Nothing to fear there except perhaps old memories, but since he only ever worked in places he had never seen before in his life, that wasn't a problem.
He also loved being his own boss. If he wanted to blow off steam and work away in the middle of the night he could, no matter what Sam had to say about work-life-balance or whatever he wanted to call it. Not that Mr. Hot Shot Lawyer should preach to him about that.
Still, he knew what he was doing, and he liked doing it, and he was not expecting any grand revelations now.
He was wrong about that.
Here he was, doing his thing at the end of October. Some people might have had something to say about that, but it wasn't a scarier month than any other when push came down to shove.
Even though he would say the day light hours getting shorter and shorter was annoying, but on the other hand - more nicht hours to work in.
This place was full of strange knick-knacks and weird little keepsakes, but that, he was used to.
The mirror, on the other hand…
About 300 years old, he’d say, decorated with gold ornaments and a bit tarnished, but with a little bit of polish…
Yes, not bad, not bad at all…
He turned away and resumed his work.
Then he heard the voice.
“Not that I am in any way interested, but what are you doing?”
He reeled around but there was no one there.
Wonderful. He was finally losing it.
“Over here… the first time in over three hundred years someone hears me, and this is the reaction I get. Wonderful.”
Where could -
And then he looked at the mirror again
And this time, he saw -
A bearded guy in a suit staring back.
He blinked. Rubbed his eyes. Looked away and back again.
But the image persisted.
“What -”
“How much longer will you need to convince yourself that what you are seeing is real? Because I for one would rather get on with it.”.
“What are you doing in there?” it might not have been the first question most people would have, but he did have the house to think of, and he didn't think that kind of thing would be a good advertisement, apart from some weirdos…
“To make a long story short, Mother dearest happened to be a witch, and a while ago I must have annoyed her more than usual because here I am just going about my.day and then I am in here.”
“You - what do you mean a while ago?” he knew that mirror had been hanging there for rather longer than a while, he just knew it.
“Near the end of the seventeenth century, if it makes you happy.”
That - wow - that was a long time, especially if one was stuck in one place, dependent on others to even move -
“So you just talk to everyone who happens to come here or did I just get lucky?”
“Most of the time people can’t see or hear me. Only works during this month, and for the last decade, no one’s been here during this time.”
That couldn't have been easy. “I’m here now”
“Obviously.”
A moment of silence.
Then he said “So do you need something or... because I’ve got things to do, you know.”
“That's all you have to say?”
“What do you want me to say? Like I said I've got work to do…”
“I need to get out of here.”
“So break the mirror or -”
“Excellent idea, just kill me and be done with it.”
“I had no idea. This is my first magic mirror.”
“I’m not a magic mirror.”
“Could have fooled me.”
He ignored that. “This is my one chance in the year I get to talk to someone and I am not wasting it with pointless arguments. Get. Me. Out. Of. Here.”
Dean held the opinion that no one should allow himself to be ordered around by a mirror.
He still took the thing with him because what else was he supposed to do?
“The name is Crowley” he said as he carried him to the car.
“Didn’t ask.”
Okay, Dean thought to himself that night as he was getting a beer from the fridge, I now have a magic mirror. Always a good idea to bring something like that in your home.
He was hanging it up when -
“Still crooked.”
“You’ll hang in there and you’ll like it.”
Crowley sighed dramatically - he would soon realize that was the only way he ever did do things - and said “it will have to do until something better comes along”.
He stepped away and got himself a beer from the fridge to watch the game.
“Really? That brand and I have to watch the Jets lose again?”
“Shouldn’t you have been put in there long before they even invented American football?”
“Do you even know how long I hung on that wall? I have watched them lose more times than I could count.”
“I am the one who can actually pick up the remote so we’re watching what I want.”
Crowley sighed. “Fine.”
Dean grinned and settled down to the game, and even with Crowley’s snarky commentary – to be perfectly honest, because of it – it was quite a bit of fun.
And so, he ended up with a roommate. One that he couldn't introduce anyone to, that was true, but at the same time, he wasn't going to have to clean up after him or find his food gone, so that was a plus.
And his evenings at home really were more fun with Crowley around, even if –
“That’s your third drink this evening.”
“So?”
“I know that all those guidelines came into play long after I was put in here, but I did hang in a doctor’s waiting room for a while, and I overheard some things.”
And Dean, knowing that he wouldn’t give up, sighed and got water instead.
Then, when Sam and Sarah came for dinner –
“Why don’t you tell him you’ve read Moby Dick? He just quoted it.”
He couldn’t really answer him while he was with the others – they’d think he’d gone crazy and he certainly didn’t want that – so because he just knew Crowley wouldn’t stop he said, “I’m not after a big wahle though, Sammy. I just want to expand a little if –“
“Did you recognize that quote?” Sam asked with wide eyes; Sarah looked – well – to be honest, she looked a bit smug.
“Yeah, Moby Dick, isn’t it? I thought it was a bit long-winded for my taste, dude used five hundred words when one dozen would have been enough, but I guess that’s why it’s a classic –“
Sam blinked. “I – ahm – yes –“
Dean probably shouldn’t have enjoyed the look of bewilderment on his face as much as he did. But then, it was only this one time –
“Either you tell him or I will”.
Since Crowley couldn’t really do anything but hang around, Dean didn’t even look at him.
He lasted half an hour before he gave up.
“Bobby, do you remember I – I actually have been thinking about expanding, and –“
“About time, boy. What do you need?”
And so time went on – had it really been only two weeks since he’d brought Crowley home? It seemed incredible, but so it seemed… and this also meant that very soon, they wouldn’t be able to speak for eleven months.
Unless…
“You’re late again” Crowley complained because of course he would. “Not to sound like I'm complaining –“
“You always do –“
“But my time is very much off the essence…”
“That’s why I figured I would do some research” he said, pulling out the books he’d chosen eventually. He’d had to go to several university libraries, asking all sorts of questions of bemused librarians, but it had been worth it.
“What –“
But Dean was already reading the incantation.
A moment later, Crowley, without even so much as a by your leave, was standing in front of him, blinking. “There we have it. Now –“
Crowley swayed and Dean grabbed him. “Easy there, tiger.”
Crowley blinked at him then without even a word dragged him into a kiss.
“That helped” he said as he let go. “Now, how did you manage that –“
“Oh no first of you all you and I are going to talk… we need to come up with a story to tell.”
One year later
At first, Crowley had been rather reluctant at the idea of throwing a Halloween party, and Dean couldn't even fault him for it, seeing as he had been stuck in a Halloween decoration, if you went by the frame of the mirror still hanging in place of pride at their home.
But there was always… Well… Dean had always rather enjoyed imagining that one day, when he had a house and a partner, the white picket fence, he would give his own Parties, and they would be the best on the block.
Naturally, this didn't mean that he was neglecting the kids; there was lots of candy in the house and whoever would be first at the door could hand them out. Knowing Charlie and Sarah, it would probably be a race.
Things did turn out as he had predicted - for the most part.
For, somewhere in the middle of the party, they were having a drink with Charlie when she asked, clearly trying to be casual, “Crowley, you wouldn’t know anything about hauntings, would you?”
“Hauntings? No, not really my area.”
“Used to be though.”
When they were silent, she sighed. “Come on guys, do you really think I didn’t know? All these rumours on the internet about a haunted mirror that looks just like the one Dean suddenly carried home, with the spectre in it supposedly being a British guy with a beard… didn’t take me long to put two and two together.”
“And what are you going to do about it, Miss Bradbury?” Cowly asked casually – a little too casually.
“It’s Charlie, and please – as if I would ever do something that could harm you two lovebirds. No, don’t worry – I just meant since you are obviously the experts when it comes to stuff like this,… lots of people out there who could use some help with cursed objects, or magic in general. Just because most of humanity laughs at this stuff these days, doesn't mean it’s not real, or that it’s not important to deal with before it gets out of hand.”
“I have to say I agree” Crowley drawled. “The things my mother could do…”
“Are you really going to –“
“Don’t tell me you are not tempted. I know you too well for that.”
Yes, he did and yes, he was. That didn’t mean he should though, after all, hadn’t his partner drabbled into this kind of thing centuries ago, and look what it had got him…
Yet at the same time…
He couldn’t just flip houses all the time, now could he? Everyone needed a hobby, and it was a good idea to keep Crowley occupied anyway, lest he had any ideas…
“What is it, then?” he asked lightly.
“I was just about to ask” Crowley drawled. “Better not to let Dean handle this alone.”
Most people would have considered that dismissive, but Dean knew the heart underneath that Armani suit, and he was simply worried.
Charlie grinned to show that she understood as well. “Well now that I have your attention – what do you know about so-called hands of glory, and don’t give me that look, I mean the scary version…”