Title: Remembering Things

Rating: PG (because G is for wimps)

Summary: Talking about things neither of them has thought of for a long time.

Disclaimer: --

Author's Notes: Have taken certain liberties in concordance with a "the Bible doesn't always get it 100 nice and accurate" mentality. I was going to blame The Passion of the Christ for preying upon my ignorance, but it all worked out in the end. Just know that I've read Paradise Lost, but not much more.

In the end, Aziraphale was forced to read about it. Normally he was very enthusiastic about reading, but in this case would have preferred to have lived it. Other angels had been there, angels who weren't, he might point out, very well versed in humanity, and when you got right down to it, it made him feel . . . wrathful.

Of course both of them had known about the Son of God's arrival on earth, just as they had known about the Antichrist. Neither of them had known where, though. And, really, looking back it was all rather painfully obvious. But Aziraphale supposed it was to be expected—there of course were glamours placed around Him to throw everyone, not just the infernal and ethereal agents stationed on Earth, off.

The angel smoothed the napkin in his lap. One, two, three, four . . . "Would you care to repeat that?"

"Huh? All I'm sayin' is he's more adorable than the Other Guy. It's not that blasphemous, y'know."

"No, that isn't what I meant. Although I'm sure Adam, being a golden-haired child who's taken it upon himself to save the world, is bound to appeal to even you as 'adorable.'" At least after this much to drink. "No. What I was referring to is your knowing what Christ looked like, in the first place. Do elaborate, please do." Silly of him to fall back on antagonism at a time like this. He was trying to be less on edge, but he'd frankly been fed up for hours, now.

"Ohh. Guess I never did tell you 'bout that, did I? Well." But Crowley was engrossed in the ground they sat on, although now at least he looked to be sobering a bit—slight shake of the head.

"You met Him?"

Crowley bit his lower lip. "Well . . . "

"And you didn't tell me? Really, Crowley."

"Hey, I didn't know it was going to be such a big deal, okay?" He gulped more alcohol. "I wasn't actually looking forward to a repeat of The Eden Job," he mumbled.

"You." Aziraphale was gaping. Oh this isn't fair at all. "Oh. You mean it was you who . . . that . . ."

"Yes, yes, am I supposed to be sorry or something, Aziraphale?" Crowley hissed. "Would you rather be the one doing the temptation spiel? As I recall, you're less than adept on that front. And with Him you'd probably . . . I don't know, do some catching up." Another swig from the wine bottle. Aziraphale wrinkled his nose. "I couldn't exactly tell you, anyway. It was prior to the Arrangement, you understand," Crowley said, sloppy but sincere amends. He was just as worn out. The Bentley, indeed.

"Well, it's not as though we weren't already in an arrangement, of sorts, before," Aziraphale sulked.

"Yeah, but." Crowley fell with relief back into moodiness. Aziraphale was grateful; this was charted territory. The demon's words meandered, half-serious. "Tell you the truth, I was kinda star-struck at the time. But I've since reflected on it, y'know, and 've decided it makes me a tad irritated. I mean—I mean, I've had rather a lot more experience since Eve. And still. Still. Now, maybe it's just down to me being incompetent . . . " He winced at himself, not wanting to use a word that close to the present, and continued quickly, "Anyway, whatever it was, I don't see where He gets off ignoring the likes of me when the stupid bloody humans didn't. Don't, even."

"Still harbouring a little resentment, are you?" said Aziraphale unthinkingly. He was plotting recapturing the bottle. He also didn't need any more to drink.

"What d'you . . . er." Crowley's double-take was more like his being suddenly snared on something, his mouth shaping words that wouldn't work when it fell open beautifully—a sad art. They were tired. "Er, excuse me, angel?"

That is really not what I meant, damn you. Give me some credit. Yet, incomprehensibly, he said, "Of course, it's to be expected."

"What! Look, let me tell you something—you don't just blindly follow someone when you don't know if they're at all competent. How were we supposed know, back then?" Crowley waited for an answer that wasn't coming. His eyes flashed open and flashed yellow. "And don't give me any 'Oh, if you recall, "and the Lord saith thus"' shit. 'Cause I don't remember pointless crap. Anyone who tries to win you over with a whopping great bloody party has got to be hiding something."

"It wasn't like that in the least," said Aziraphale evenly. The demon snorted as he said it.

"I know it was somewhat unfair, though," he continued. His counterpart looked at him. "You were probably the smart one. Actually."

"Oh." Blink. "But you don't . . . regret?"

"I don't see how I feasibly could," Aziraphale said briskly, imposing a smile on his mouth.

". . . Right," Crowley breathed. Another sip, and then he handed the wine to the angel. A little more charted, this time, and a lot more softly: "Right, then. But back on the subject of the Son. I only got to see Him the one time, of course, but . . . . I dunno. Once I heard what happened afterward . . . well, I came and found you and we drank loads of horrible cheap Roman booze, if you remember. By the way, gimme that." He snatched at the bottle until Aziraphale relented and shoved it towards him. They still needed some harshness. "Mm. But, y'see, after He showed up everyone decided to go doing things in 'is name that made me wanna get smashed all over again. So there you are."

"Indeed."

"No, I mean, so there you are: Aziraphale. It was nice to talk about nothin' with you. Is. Yeah." The demon shook his head again.

"Ineffable, I believe," said the angel affectionately, if smugly.

"Are you saying He had something to do with us 'n' the Arrangement?" Slow, satisfied suggestion laced his voice.

"Maybe I am."

"Are you saying," said Crowley, eyebrows raised. "He planned it this way all along? From the very beginning?"

Aziraphale noticed the man approaching them. They kept talking anyway, eventually relapsing into reminiscence, as they so often did. Despite everything, Aziraphale wasn't glad to have been there, this time. In fact, he would much rather have been sitting in a chair and drinking. He didn't really have a problem with Crowley having a part in Christ's temptation and, in the same way, Crowley didn't really care that Aziraphale hadn't fallen, although both were still jealous. These things simply resulted from what each of them was, and they'd both been there in the Garden, anyway.

Now, they were both at the end of the world.

-----