It had been a perfectly normal afternoon at the duck pond. The ducks themselves were waddling around as usual, accepting crusts of bread from the local Russian spies, CIA agents, and supernatural beings. The sun had peeked through the ever present clouds, conveniently forming a halo around the Angel beside him. Before he knew it, the Demon had blurted out his question.

"Will you run away with me?"

The Angel turned to look at him peculiarly. After a long pause, he shrugged.

"Where would we run off to, my dear?"

The Demon wasn't sure. It wasn't like he'd planned it. He cursed his stupid tongue for running away on him. (He made a mental note to get a new corporation; one with a tongue that obeyed him.)

After careful deliberation, he replied, "Barcelona, perhaps?"

The Angel smiled kindly, and the Demon thought for a moment that he was being patronized, but then the Angel laid his head upon the Demon's shoulder, and the Demon felt the heart that he often insisted didn't exist skip a beat.

"I'd like that," said the Angel, tossing a crust of bread to a duckling, "We could see some of the great churches I helped build."

The Demon snorted at that. Of course the Angel would be thinking about his duties like a goodie-two-shoes.

"I was thinking we could get away from that. Have some time for ourselves. No Heaven, no Hell, no Antichrist…" he trailed off.

The Angel sat up again, and the Demon felt his non-existent heart drop a little. Almost without realizing, the Demon reached out to brush a golden strand of hair from the Angel's face. The Angel gave him an even more peculiar look at that.

"What's gotten into you, Crowley?" he asked.

The Demon, Crowley, didn't know. He replied, rather defensively, "There's nothing wrong with wanting to get away with my angel, is there?"

The Angel gave him a scrutinizing look, as if he were under a microscope and the Angel were an especially scrutinizing scientist.

"Of course not, but Crowley… You've never wanted to leave London before. Your superiors always contact you here."

The Demon didn't know what to say to that. "A demon may want a little change every now and again. I might be able to pick up a Spanish CD that doesn't change into Queen," he said, though in a tone that suggested he was unsure of himself.

The Angel shifted away from him slightly while his hand reached for another piece of bread in his pocket. "I suppose," he said slowly, "I just think it's a bit odd. You haven't wanted to travel to Spain since the – the, you know, Inquisition, my dear."

Crowley suddenly remembered the Inquisition and felt nauseated. "How could I have forgotten that bloody Inquisition! I even got a commendation for it!"

The Angel sighed. "I think it might be because we're being written by a terrible amateur author." He gloomily threw another piece of bread into the duck pond.

The Demon groaned. "I suppose I'll have to kiss you now," he said wearily.

"Don't be so rude about it!" the Angel spluttered, "I'm not that terrible a kisser!"

Crowley shrugged and leant over to give the Angel a peck on the lips. It was the most amazing peck on the lips either of them ever had because this amateur author doesn't know how else to end the fic.

The End.


Author's Note: Sorry for the crappy ending! I wrote this as a quick 25 min writing exercise in which I wasn't allowed to go back and edit except for grammar/spelling mistakes and if I got stuck or made a continuity error then I was screwed. I'm sure you can tell where I screwed up...

A review would be much appreciated~!