Episode 9, Belly Full of Good Intentions
Occasionally, Aziraphale likes to watch humans being good all on their own—it perks up an angel's spirit to no end, especially after a bad day of attempting to scare customers away from his bookshop before they could purchase any of the books. Today had been a spectacularly unsuccessful day, with Aziraphale being forced to sell something or resort to physical violence, so he decided a trip to volunteer at a Soup Kitchen was the balm to sooth his tired soul*.
The trip was less soothing than he had hoped. It was a Sunday, for starters, and Sundays are prime volunteering days (perhaps because it allows for guilt-free church skipping), and Aziraphale found that he, shockingly, was not needed. That was wonderful, obviously, because it meant that there were lots and lots of humans with good intentions, doing good things, but it certainly put a damper on the angel's personal plans. His second surprise came walking past him in sunglasses and a strikingly out of place volunteer's t-shirt.
"Excuse me, coming through" the Crowley-esque being said as he brushed past.
"Crowley?" Aziraphale asked in incredulous astonishment.
"Well, uh…Hi, Aziraphale," the apparently-Crowley answered, with just a hint of embarrassment. Not enough, Aziraphale thought, given the ludicrousness of the situation. Of all the embarrassing places, and of all the embarrassing things he had caught Crowley doing over the centuries, this should have rated higher on the embarrassment scale than it did**.
"What are you doing here?"
Crowley smirked, "Oh, just the Lord's work."
"But you're a demon!" Aziraphale sputtered, as quietly as one could sputter.
"Well, sometimes people, or beings as it were, need to branch out. I think it's important to interact with the less fortunate," Crowley said smoothly, embarrassment entirely gone and replaced by amusement at his associate's confusion.
Aziraphale tried valiantly to rally himself. "This is some sort of joke, isn't it, my dear? You don't actually volunteer here."
The universe, choosing today to block Aziraphale's every attempt at restoring normalcy, chimed in. A man in a matching volunteer shirt, but holding a clipboard to indicate superiority in volunteer rank, walked by. "Oh, Anthony, there you are. We need you out front. Can you show the new guys what to do?"
Aziraphale couldn't believe his eyes or his ears. "Wait. This is real? Not some sort of joke or hallucination? Cro-…er, Anthony actually does volunteer here?"
The universe snickered, and the clipboard wielding volunteer replied, "Every Sunday, all year long. He's our best volunteer." He glanced at his clipboard. "You, however, are not needed. We're full."
Aziraphale began to open his mouth, but Crowley cut in first. "It's okay, Kendall. He's cool."
Kendall sighed, "Fine. But I'm not promising anything. Wait here and we'll let you know if we need you."
Crowley smirked as flustered and incredulous vied to be expression of choice on Aziraphale's face. "I'd better get back out there. There's a lot of food to give out." He began to walk away. "And a lot of smiles!" He shouted over his shoulder before he turned the corner and was out of sight.
Aziraphale did not know how to deal with this development. Though he was a very strong proponent *** of the idea that Crowley must have a spark of goodness in him somewhere, this, he felt, was really a bit much.
Aziraphale was not very good at waiting. Eventually, he decided that there must be something he could do to help out and made his way over to a girl sorting food donations.
"Hello, I'm Ezra. Ezra Fell. Do you need any help with that?"
The girl smiled and stuck out her hand. "I'm Amanda. If you want, you can help sort through these donations. All you have to do is go through the boxes, take the really good stuff, and put it into this box."
Aziraphale, glad to be doing something, agreed to help and began sorting. After some time had passed, he asked, "What exactly is this box for?"
Amanda looked up from sorting. "Oh, that's for me. You can put it in my car."
Aziraphale paused. "In your car. Then you'll take it…?"
"Home?" Amanda replied. "We get so much extra food, no one can eat it all." She looked over the donated food. "Oh, Truffle oil. Score."
Aziraphale was appalled. "People donated this food thinking it was going to feed the hungry!"
"I know, and I'm starving," Amanda said with a smile.
And because the universe was a bastard, it was at exactly that moment that Crowley walked by. "Really, now. Helping someone steal from the homeless. For shame, angel." His expression was too amused by half and Aziraphale felt the need for drastic action. He spotted the clipboard carrier…Kendall, that was his name, and called him over.
"This woman is stealing…" he paused to glance into the box, "Portobello mushrooms from homeless people." He waited for human retribution to strike, feeling triumphant.
Kendall looked irritated. "Amanda! I called dibs on the Portobello mushrooms." Amanda merely smiled and shrugged.
"Those are for the hungry!" Aziraphale was approaching rage—sometimes people could really disappoint an angel.
"I know, and I'm starving," Kendall replied with the same self satisfied smile that guilt-free sinners throughout the ages had worn. Rage achieved. Aziraphale looked like he was about to make a scene. Crowley stood back to watch.
A sequence of events occurred which would later make Aziraphale blush with embarrassment to think on sober. He grabbed the bag of Portobello mushrooms and ran out into the dining area of the Soup Kitchen, with Kendall and Amanda chasing after him. Ripping open the bag, he began to throw the mushrooms to the homeless gathered there. "Mushrooms!" he shouted. "Mushrooms. Portobello mushrooms for everybody! Take them and run! They're very expensive!"
Crowley walked out of the Soup Kitchen, sans cheerful t-shirt, laughing so hard that tears formed in his eyes. He sat down next to a dejected looking Aziraphale on the street curb. "I can't believe you got fired from volunteering at a Soup Kitchen!" Actually saying it out loud made him laugh even harder until he saw the I-will-smite-you glare that the angel was sporting. He took a few deep breaths to calm down, though a few stray laughs escaped even then.
"I can't believe you were even in a Soup Kitchen," Aziraphale replied once his associate seemed fit to speak to. "What were you even doing there?"
A look of guilt skittered across Crowley's face. "Well…it may have been a sort of secret side project."
Aziraphale raised an eyebrow. "We are supposed to inform one another of our ongoing projects, you know. For balance and all that."
"Yes, well, you see, the boys Downstairs have been getting stricter about the whole yearly soul quota thing and you know how much I favor broad sweeping influence to one-on-one tempting with contracts and all that. It's very effective and they really should appreciate my work more, but you know them." He paused. "Well, you don't, but my point is that I need to secure some seriously tarnished, non-repenters or I'm going to be in a lot of trouble."
"So you thought you would start with the homeless? That seems rather…tacky."
"I wasn't tempting the homeless! …much. Do you know how easy it is to tempt the arrogantly righteous? Those volunteers, they come in and you can see them wiping their consciences clean, like things operate on a points system. The guilt-free are not the guiltless as you well know. And they hardly ever repent. Why should they? They don't think they've done anything wrong. You heard them in there; they think they are entitled to that stuff. And it's just another few, small steps before they're mine and I've met my quota. Though I'll have to find another spot now that you've ruined my credibility." Crowley tried a light-hearted smile, but when he looked over, all he saw was Depression. "Hey, you missed your cue. You're supposed to say, 'you know I've got to thwart you now.'"
Aziraphale sighed and rubbed put his head in his hands. "What's the point? They'll probably do it without you interfering anyways."
Crowley fretted internally. He didn't feel guilty, that wasn't it. But he was used to things going a certain way and following a certain script, a very old and well defined script that ran: demon wiles, angel thwarts, both go out and drink, rinse, and repeat. When old cycles are broken, crises occur, and Crowley was not a fan of crises. He decided to stick to what the script should have been and simply hope— -er, anticipate that Aziraphale would follow along eventually. "You've successfully thwarted me this time, at the very least. Now that you've spoiled my evening, I think you owe me a drink." He stood and held out his hand. Aziraphale simply looked at him for a moment too long for Crowley to be truly comfortable. Then he nodded, though whether that was in agreement with Crowley's statement or at the conclusion of some inner dialogue was unclear, and took the proffered hand and ride.
Several hours later, Crowley was doing a drunken reenactment of Aziraphale's mushroom liberation and Aziraphale was red faced and nearly bent double with laughter. The universe shrugged and turned to find someone else to pick on.
* If he had actually had a soul that is. Angelic and demonic beings didn't, technically. They were something like walking souls, except not like that in any way whatsoever.
**For Crowley, at least. Aziraphale was obviously more embarassed about the orgies.
***Truth be told, the only proponent.