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blackcherryvelvet0909 · 8 months

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Feathered Good (Crowley x GN!Reader)

Content Warning: Alcohol (no intoxication), implied depression, implied unhealthy coping mechanisms, mild angst

Note: Reader is an adult NRC staff member

A pleased hum vibrated along your lips and rumbled through your throat as a soft breeze kissed your skin. It smelt of sand and sea, beneath that the delectable scent of various dishes cooking in the restaurant kitchen. You took another sip of your drink, the taste of [favorite fruit] wonderfully flooding your taste buds once again. You savored the flavor as your gaze lingered on the view before you, out towards the vast body of saltwater beyond. It was an excellent idea, coming out here; you’d have to thank Divus for the recommendation later. This was exactly what you needed.

You were tucked into a nice little corner as well. Your table was situated on the lower deck of the restaurant - you thought it too nice an evening to remain inside. The spot wasn’t too far from the kitchens, either, so your food and drink didn’t take long to reach you. There was only one thing missing: company. When you first planned to eat out here, you thought Divus and Trein would come with you. However, as usual, their duties as professors got them into a bit of trouble, and a little injury. Thank goodness it wasn’t too bad of a fall; even so, the men had been in no mood to walk two to three flights of stairs, whether short or long.

So, here you were, split between happiness for the alone time and disappointed in the lack of friendly conversation. Your eyes made another once over of your surroundings, watching the other patrons chat and laugh amongst themselves. Just as you were about to focus back on the waning sunset, your gaze settled on a familiar figure on the floor above. You could scarcely make out his frame, but you knew that mask from anywhere. What was Crowley doing here? Well, that was a dumb question. When was the headmage not making the most of the trip - either on or off the clock, to you and your coworkers’ misfortune.

You couldn’t try and scold him, since it was technically both your off times. There was no reason to go and talk to him. Still…you found yourself rising from your seat. You placed a few madol on the table for your waiter; as you passed by the person at the register, you mentioned you were moving up to the top floor. That way they wouldn’t try and chase you, thinking you were trying to skip paying your bill. When the cashier gave you a nod and a smile, you headed up the long flight of stairs. It was a bit of a struggle to not spill your drink in your ascension, but you managed. Within minutes you reached the top - the view was even better from this height.

Crowley faced away from you, the rim of his glass pressed to his lips as he took a sip of the liquid within. You couldn’t tell if it was alcoholic or not - did he even drink? Guess it was time to find out. “I’m surprised to see you here,” were the words you greeted him with. He turned to you as you rested your glass on the wooden edge of the balcony, wide enough for patrons to settle small plates of food or beverages.

The headmage greeted you with a smile as he straightened his posture. “I make a point to visit this restaurant whenever I get the chance to travel here.” Crowley leaned against the railing, arm rested atop it, clawed hands almost folded in front of him. He looked more casual than usual - relaxed, even. If he were not a man who constantly plucked at your nerves, you’d think him rather dashing, especially since, this evening, he was not clad in that gaudy tropical shirt and khakis. Aside from his cloak, top hat, and cane, he was dressed in his usual ensemble. “Is this your first time here?” he asked.

“The restaurant or this beach in general?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “Either.”

“Yes, to both,” you answered. Your body relaxed as you rested your arms against the wooden railing, glass placed next to you. “This is my first vacation in forever, I think. Usually, when I’m not working, I just hang out at home.” You chuckled, “I wouldn’t exactly call this a vacation, anyway; it’s basically a work trip.”

“True,” Crowley agreed, “but I have done my best to work some ample time for you and the other staff to enjoy yourselves as well.” You seriously questioned that, with the way the man would sometimes outright abandon you and the students in favor of some other unknown activity. He picked up his small glass with his fingertips, swirling the brown liquid within as his eyes cast back out at the waves beyond. “This is truly a charming place, despite the hustle and bustle of the tourists.” Crowley lifted the glass to take another sip of his beverage. Feeling a bit mischievous, you decided to ask him another question.

“Is that why Royal Sword and Noble Bell also chose this place to hold their field trips?” You held back a laugh as the headmage nearly choked on the drink. Patiently, you waited for him to regain himself before he answered.

“Well…I suppose that is the reason.” You could almost picture the sweat that surely beaded under his shirt collar. “As I said, this is a wondrous place! What better destination for students to learn and play?”

“It is, indeed, a place to do both - for all ages.” A little smirk played on your lips as you pried more. “It’s just strange we arrived right as the other schools did.” You lifted your drink to your lips as you added, “Coincidence, perhaps?”

The headmage now avoided your gaze - a clear sign he was nervous. “Ah…yes!” Crowley let out a nervous laugh. “Quite so! Us three headmasters must be in sync with one another. As they say, great minds think alike!”

Or a certain one didn’t want to look bad in front of his peers, you thought to yourself. For now, you decided to keep that thought to yourself. After all, there was no proof to that…yet. Divus said he would keep you posted.

“While it does allow our students to mingle with ones from other schools, it is a little chaotic.” You sighed as you placed your drink back down on the space next to you, the taste of [drink of choice] fresh upon your tongue. “I’m surprised there haven't been that many fights. Aside from Spade’s confrontation with those Royal Sword boys, there hasn’t been much of an incident. It’s either we finally have peace in the valley,” another sigh left your lips, “or all will come crashing down in the final days of the trip.”

“Come now,” Crowley chuckled. “Do you have such little faith in our flock?” You sent him a look - without words, he seemed to get the point. He nodded his head, “Yes, our students are a rowdy bunch, to be sure. But perhaps this change of scenery will calm those rebellious natures enough for them to put away their fists.”

“Hopefully,” you wished, with all of your being. You really didn’t get paid enough for the hassle sometimes.

A silence fell between you two for a few moments, nothing but the sound of distant chatter and ocean waves filling your ears. Crowley was the one to break that hush. “[Y/n]?” You perked up at the sound of your name - your first name. It was odd for him not to address you formerly, even when off duty. With your attention back on him, he continued. “What do you think makes a good person?”

“I didn’t know you partook in philosophy,” you said, perplexed by the question. Where did this come from?

“I read up on the subject from time to time,” Crowley mentioned. “Will you humor me?”

Well, you didn’t see why you couldn’t. You did yearn for conversation earlier - now you had it. For a few seconds, you thought his question over, tossed and turned it in your mind. What made a good person? “I guess it depends on the person,” you finally replied. “No one will answer the same; it all weighs on someone’s life experience, I think.”

“That was not what I asked.” Crowley’s expression was different, you realized. He looked sincere - more serious than you’d ever seen him. Even when a certain group of students overblotted in the past year, he hadn’t appeared this way. “I am asking you what makes a good person. In your eyes, what makes a good person?”

You rarely ever experienced this man look directly into your eyes. It was almost like he wanted to peer into your very soul to find the answer. The tone of his voice had shifted as well, you noticed. Has Crowley ever been so earnest? You couldn’t answer that. You said you would humor him, so humor him you would. After a bit more contemplation, you explained to him what, to you, made a good person.

The man listened intently, hung on your every word. He gave a slight nod of his head from time to time, truly taking in your beliefs. You secretly wished he’d take his work as seriously as this opinion of yours. Once you said your piece, he nodded once more, and then another long moment of silence washed over you both. That yellow gaze, obscured behind Crowley’s dark mask, was cast down to the ground. The rest of his expression, along with his body language, was almost…solemn, you thought. Did he find your answer disappointing?

Before you could ask, he raised his head and smiled at you. Though it looked a little strained, he sounded genuine. “Thank you, [Y/n]. I will keep your words in mind for the future.” You watched as he picked up his glass once more, clasped a little tightly in his palm as he held it up to his lips. He then tilted his head back and drank the entirety of his beverage in a few short gulps.

Your eyes must have widened at the display, for he let out a small laugh. “What’s that look for?”

“What was that?” you asked, pointing at his now empty glass.

“My drink?” Crowley shook the glass and the remaining ice clinked around within. “Scotch.”

“You chugged it that quickly?!” The audacity of this man. “Will you even be able to walk back to the hotel?” It wasn’t too far away, the restaurant was located just outside the resort, but…

Crowley let out another laugh, much louder than the last. “Aww, you worry for me? I’m flattered!” Who wouldn’t worry? “But I assure you I’m quite alright. It takes a lot more than that to get me tipsy.”

That was a pretty sizable amount of liquor though. Even Trein, someone who himself partook in scotch from time to time, would get a little blitzed after such a chug. How…how much did it take to get Crowley drunk? How much had he drunk in the past to build that high of a tolerance? Your expression must have revealed your inner thoughts, for Crowley let out another chuckle.

“It has been my friend on many a late night,” he explained. Crowley eyed the glass in his hand almost as though it were an old friend. He appeared…almost sad, for the way he smiled. “This evening is one of few where it is not required.”

Your heart sank. Not required? Sure, you knew Crowley was probably the type to drink a good bit, like Divus, but…that sounded rather ominous. Crowley appeared no different than the depressed protagonist in a movie. What exactly did he have to be depressed about? You thought back to the odd question he asked you minutes before. ‘What makes a good person?’

You thought about all the times Crowley praised himself. How kind he claimed to be with every little thing he did. Always out of arrogance, narcissism, maybe. Now, in light of the question he gave you, how he reacted and mulled over your answer. It now seemed those praises were affirmations to himself…assurances he was doing good. The confidence he showed when he made such claims always fueled the frustration within you. When put in this light though, it sounded like…like a man desperate to be a good person, when he didn’t know how to be.

“Dire-”

Your elbow hit something as you adjusted your position: Your glass. You gasped as it fell over the railing; you were just in time to watch it fall down to the sand three flights of stairs away. Thankfully it didn’t hit anyone on the way. A few guests and servers looked up in confusion - you suddenly felt embarrassed. You nearly jumped out of your skin when Crowley belted out in laughter. “It happens to the best of us!” he reassured. “I can’t count how many times I’ve made such a blunder.”

With a wave of his hand, he called a waiter over. “Would you get my companion here another -” he glanced over at you “ - what were you having?”

“[Drink of choice],” you mumbled, still flustered beyond belief.

“[Drink of choice]!” Crowley repeated to the waiter. He handed them his empty glass as he added, “And another glass of scotch for me, if you wouldn’t mind.” Crowley slipped the waiter a several madol as a tip - or as a way to get your drinks quicker. Either way, the waiter uttered a ‘yes, sir’ before they headed down to the bar. As they went out of sight, Crowley turned back to you. “Where is that smile from before? You’re not the first to knock over a glass, you know.”

“I know…” You shied away as you rubbed your arm. “I just hate someone has to pick it up.”

“I’m sure that isn’t the worst thing they’ve ever done.” Crowley sat himself in a cushioned chair at the corner of the floor. You followed suit and took the one across from him. “If it broke, I will pay for that as well.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Wouldn’t I have to pay for it?”

“Usually,” he rested his chin against the back of his hand, “if I were not treating you.”

Dire Crowley, the stingy headmage of Night Raven College, treating you? You couldn’t hold back the small laugh that escaped your throat. “I didn’t know you had a sense of humor,” you quipped.

He scoffed, taken aback by your statement. “Whatever do you mean? I have a great sense of humor! And that was not a joke: I intend to pay for the drinks you may have in my presence.”

Who clocked him over the head? “You’re serious?” you questioned with a skeptical raise of your brow. “Not going to take this out of my paycheck or something?”

“You think me that cruel?” He seemed to flinch by the look that crossed your face. “No no, I’m not going to take it out of your check - or any thereafter.” Another smile twitched at his lips. “Consider this my thanks for your company - and for answering my question.”

You wanted to ask more - more than him treating you. Yet something told you to hold back for now. Apparently this man was more cryptic, held more mysteries than you ever thought him to. There likely wouldn’t be anything to garner from his question - tonight, at least. Might as well take your good luck and accept the offer, before he changed his mind. You put your skepticism aside and smiled. “Thank you - I really appreciate it.”

Those masked eyes seemed to brighten a little at your gratitude. His posture straightened a bit more, his characteristic confidence back in full force. “Of course! I cherish the opportunity to reward one of my fellow peers for their hard work. After all,” his smile wavered into what looked like a smirk, “I am ever so kind~”

Another reassurance…to you, or to himself? You seriously would question that from now on.

If only you knew just how much Dire Crowley valued your opinion.

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