Dean struck out with some girl, tried to take on her boyfriend, but Crowley dragged him back to their room.
"If you could try not to get us kicked out," Crowley says, "that would be very nice."
"I got needs," Dean says.
Crowley sighs. It's hard enough keeping Dean's killer instincts in check, let alone his libido.
"Look. You want dive bars and motels, I provide. Beer and cheeseburgers, I provide. But I'm not getting turfed out on my bloody arse again just so you can have a shag. So. I will provide. Personally."
Dean lifts an eyebrow. "I'm not letting you fuck me, Crowley."
"I am your King," Crowley says.
Crowley would like to think he's a match for Dean. Sadly, he's not. He might be King, but he's still just a Crossroads demon.
Dean is a Knight of Hell.
"You didn't even fight," Dean says, pulling the sheet around himself as he rolls off the bed.
No point in denying it. "Why would I?" Crowley says. "I got what I wanted."