First, I want to thank my awesome beta reader for her help and for helping me work out plot points. Even at midnight when I'm going frantic attempting to figure out where they are, what they're doing and what happened with the sea lions. Definitely a writer's best friend. Second, I want to remind everyone that I do not own everyone's favorite main characters, or anyone else created by Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett. I borrowed them with the best intentions, but without permission. Thirdly, I want to thank everyone who is taking the time to read this.

Aziraphale, not for the first time, wondered why he had agreed to go with Crowley for this vacation. He didn't love America, it was a very nice, place, it was, honest, just not his cup of tea. More exactly, he loved England. It was nice there. He understood the English. They were a set of people with the sort of common sense that he liked.

Americans, however, were a different sort of people. They drank coffee. They believed that vacations lasted for a two week period, and you did not need to come back from vacation well rested, and in a positive set of mind. You went on vacation in America, it seemed to the angel, just to say you'd been. You bought a postcard. You complained about the money you spent. And you didn't truly take in time to enjoy the sights because you had to buy your postcard and a useless trinket for your child in the gift-shop. Americans believed that New York was filled with sin and wretchedness. Everyone went to New York. Americans liked British accents, but didn't actually like the British, or at least not as much as the accents. To be honest, he didn't like the fact that he was the one being seen due to his accent and he was not able to see the sights.

He had taken the chance, in a tourist town in Southeastern Connecticut, to explore the downtown. He liked the downtown, since it was cleaner and less crowded than New York. The shops were eclectic, mostly small businesses, and interesting to look around. Even the bookshop, which was small, had a nice selection, even though they did not have anything he wanted. It was a nice town, he had decided, and no one wanted to take a picture with 'The Blonde Over There with the Funny Ass Accent'.

However, he felt Crowley had gone too far with his latest choice of meeting place. Aziraphale looked around wretchedly. After a few encouraging smiles, he started to awkwardly sway to the rock music that filled the little park. He silently cursed Crowley for choosing said park*.

Crowley smiled when he spotted the angel. It hadn't been hard to find him. There was a part of the crowd where no one was dancing. This only happened for one of two reasons-either all of the security guards had grouped together, or humanity had convinced an angel to dance. Everyone had managed to look away from the middle**, so it must have been the latter. He strolled directly into the group, with only distance related difficulty. The crowd thinned out the closer he got to the angel, and there was only one American within two feet of the angel: A seventeen year old girl whose mass of black hair, shocking yet tasteful black eyeliner, and knee-length green dress above worn combat boots practically screamed 'pagan'.***

She had a death grip on Aziraphale's hands, and was attempting to teach the angel to dance.

"You dance dreadfully." Crowley heard her say.

Crowley stepped up to them, "I've been telling him that for the last 6,000 years…?"

"Laura." She stepped away from the angel, "He said he was waiting for someone," She said, conversationally, looking the demon up and down, "He's…cute, I suppose, Aziraphale," She turned to face Crowley, "You would be Crowley, yeah?"

"Yes."

"And you're together?" She squealed, "How cute! It's quite alright here, you know. I suppose that's why you came. Really though, Connecticut is the best place if you're looking to make it permanent." her cell phone rang and she made a face at the name before she picked up, "No, Mom, I got kidnapped," She paused, "Nah, I'll meet you there." She gave them a quick wave good-bye and a knowing wink as she walked away.

As Aziraphale dragged Crowley out of the crowd, he asked, in all innocence, "What did she mean, 'together'?"

Crowley stared at him, "Let's get a drink. I'll tell you after a drink."

"She was very nice." The angel commented, "Talkative. Seems like she could carry on a conversation all by herself."

"Probably does."

After a thoroughly disapproving look, Aziraphale continued, "Intelligent. Very warm."

"Yes, yes, very personable." Crowley rolled his eyes.

"I thought so." Once they reached the boardwalk that lined part of the river, the angel breathed a sigh of relief, "Pagan, though. Not that I have any problem with that. Some are very nice people."

"Sure, sure." Crowley glanced sidelong him, "You're looking to convert her, aren't you?"

"Nice girl." the angel repeated, then continued, "Goes to bible camp every summer."

"Wow." Crowley wasn't sure why he had said that, and was quite embarrassed that he had. 'Wow' was not a word to be used as he had just used it. 'Wow' did not apply to a girl who could tell her whole life story in ten minutes, or to a pagan going to a Christian Camp. He headed towards his Bentley.

"Let's walk a bit. You said something about getting a drink."

"We can drive and get a drink."

"Walking," The angel said primly, "is nicer." he planted his feet securely on the wood. The demon sighed, rolled his eyes and walked back to him.

"Where to?"

"Let's walk until we spot a bar."

Crowley looked around wildly, and then pointed, "Spotted."

Aziraphale looked in disgust at the one that he had indicated. "Not that one. Laura said there was one near a health food store she used to work at."

"I'm sure she did."

*Not that he would ever admit it.

**More to the point, everyone had pressed together to make a middle.

*** The pentacle necklace may have helped with the identification

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