AN:
So this fic has actually swallowed my whole life. I have about eleven chapters already written up and I've been basically living on google maps. It's been about a decade since I wrote something chaptered and that might actually be literal.
A big thank you to my beta/idea wall/general helper singingsin who has put up with me bemoaning this fic, the time line, the music and the era I chose to set it in. It's been a ride and it's not even done wheee.
I'd like to beg forgiveness for any geographical inconsistencies/errors because, lol, I'm from Canada and the farthest south I've been is San Francisco, so…not conducive to writing a fic about the USA? But regardless, I'm going to try.
oh, unrelated note, i made the decision to change Lucifer's name to Luke for this, just because i sincerely doubt an average family in 1988 would name their son Lucifer. just in case there's some confusion?
Title is taken directly from 'Ferris Bueller's Day Off' for reasons that will become clear later on?
At any rate, I don't think I have any kind of an update schedule for this but since I have a good chunk of it already written, I'll probably be posting chapter 2 within a few days.
Ferris Bueller, You're my Hero.
monoxidegirl
Chapter 01.
To say that he's going out on a limb with this one isn't much of a stretch.
Crowley isn't really one to gamble on much of anything – generally, it's a stupid, reckless way to handle things, to live life by the skin of your teeth, but here he is, at three AM on the Novak family porch as Gabriel blinks sleepily at him.
"Okay, what?"
"Can we explain on the way?" Crowley demands sharply, glancing back over one shoulder warily at the road where his car is parked against the curb, "We aren't exactly rolling in free time here."
"Where am I-?" There's a creak at the top of the stairs and Gabriel sighs tiredly, "Let me get my stuff, okay?"
They finally park at the high school, out by the bleachers, and Crowley can distantly remember his first year here, the way Gabriel changed – how having his brothers watching his every breath changed him. Being away from Michael and Luke on most days in junior high had done him wonders, but then…
"So what's all this about man? You come knocking on my door at 3 AM, wake me and my brothers up…it better be good. Like, write home, tell the kids—"
"I have to leave."
"—Oh."
The silence that settles over the car is a little awkward and Gabriel tugs at a loose thread on his jeans. Crowley idly watches him as he tries to distract himself. Gabriel always was a fidgety bastard.
"It's…complicated. Well," Crowley exhales, "Not complicated, per say, but it's hard to explain, and I don't have a lot of time."
"It's that shady shit you're involved in, isn't it?" Gabriel presses, giving him a bit of a look. He rolls his eyes and glares at the dashboard, slouching a bit in his seat to prop his feet up. His knees bend at an awkward angle and Crowley frowns more; "I've heard things dude. I'm not completely out of touch with the rumour mill."
"Could have fooled me. Thought Michael didn't want you associating with…ah, what were his exact words? Trash, was it?"
"Fuck Michael."
It occurs to Crowley, then, that people don't really change – this Gabriel, at eighteen, less gangly, less awkward limbs and fewer easy, open smiles is the same as the nine year old Gabriel that he befriended that one lonely Saturday night in late August. He's still on his brother's leash, even if he's told himself he isn't, that Michael and Luke, both graduated, older and wiser, didn't have a choke chain on him.
"Yes, well," Crowley sighs, and his hands curl tighter on the steering wheel, "I thought I'd say goodbye."
"Why?"
Gabriel's looking at him – the streetlamps cast weird, eerie shadows over his face, hollowing out his cheekbones and Crowley huffs a laugh, "That's generally what social protocol dictates, Gabriel."
"Fuck social protocol, for one thing," Gabriel comments, "And you know what I mean."
"Do I now?"
"Don't be a smart ass."
His tone is firm, but Gabriel is smiling and Crowley pushes down at the happy tug in his chest. Gabriel is stupidly handsome, his whole damn family is really, bloody wankers – Michael is firm, hard lines, authoritative, with dark hair and bright blue eyes like a clear sky in November and Luke is the softer contrast, feathery blond hair and darker blues. Castiel takes after Michael, too, just younger, less firm, still the baby in a family of adults.
Gabriel, though…
"Right. Well…we," Crowley sighs and thinks then that he ought to stop. Sighing dramatically made him sound like a bloody idiot; "We used to be friends."
Something flickers in Gabriel's eyes, hurt, maybe, but it hardens over and God, he looks like Michael when he does that, when he stands up straight to the things that bother him and he never used to do that, when did this happen? Again it occurs to him that he doesn't really know this boy, this boy who used to be his very best friend.
"Yeah? Doesn't explain why I'm sitting in your car in a parking lot at…" He glances at the dashboard clock, "Four AM."
"I thought you'd like to know that I'm going and I'm not coming back, Gabriel."
"Wouldn't be the first time."
The silence that descends on the car isn't the easy, comfortable silences that he's used to with Gabriel. It's hard and awkward and uncomfortable, the kind that eases in to all the empty spaces and sucks out all the life, that drains at you and Crowley rubs his hands over the steering wheel and doesn't say a word, just glares out the windshield at the football field, at the dew on the grass, the white lines of the end zone.
"Besides," Gabriel says finally, "I'm coming with you."
