London. Crowley's Mayfair flat. Aziraphale and Crowley are seated on the couch in his lounge, each sipping their way through a glass of scotch. They're wearing their dressing gowns – Crowley in the black Escher snake silk jacquard with the shadowy red lining, Aziraphale in his hibernation-quality lavender tartan flannel with gold silk velvet lining and twisted gold tasseled cord.

Angel, what you said about swan's down the other night got me thinking back to our Eastern Gate days. It was so nice to simply hang out with you. Dangling our legs over the edge . . . Soaking up the sunlight.

Yes. Once the first storm passed, the days continued to be nice, didn't they. I was so glad you were there. All the big important angels were off huffing around doing big important errands for The Almighty. But there I was, stuck guarding a gate. After the chickens were gone from the coop.

Yes. You looked so lonely. And - perhaps more importantly - weaponless. You have no idea how thrilled I was than an angel would actually talk to me. Instead of frying me with a flaming sword. Could you tell I was flirting with you?

Well, no. There was just something carefree about that you that I immediately liked. Not a lot of insouciance in Heaven. All Very Serious Angels. You made me laugh. And you didn't seem particularly dangerous.

I didn't know I was flirting, either. Pretended to myself that it was a temptation opportunity. In reality, of course, I was the one getting the business. It was such a treat, someone actually paying attention to me. Even if you were an enemy. Did you like my new body?

Aziraphale looks uncomfortable.

Well . . . I suppose I can admit it now. Yes. I did find you an eyeful. Even if you were a demon. Or maybe because you were a demon. Forbidden attractiveness.

So maybe I succeeded as a tempter after all?

Possibly.

Nobody ever checked to see how you were doing? No chastisement for tolerating a demon? The very demon that caused Eve's downfall?

Well, The Almighty inquired about where was my flaming sword.

What did you tell Her?

That I must have mislaid it somewhere.

You _lied_ to The Almighty?

No! Not exactly. Perhaps prevaricated a tiny bit.

Ah. The start of an illustrious career of prevaricating to the higher ups. I knew there was something about you that I liked the instant we met. I was actually sad when you disappeared, you know.

Aziraphale makes a face.

When Gabriel did finally get around to remembering me, I was pulled back to Heaven. Had to spend a couple centuries emptying wastebaskets and mopping floors. The standard punishment for screwing up on the job. It was so humiliating.

Too bad. I wondered where you'd gone. I kept going up on the wall to sun myself, hoping you'd show up. Felt bereft. Even though The Garden was a paradise. Stuffed full of small mammals and bird nests for snake snacks. Without you it was . . . well, lonely. The big time demons all went chasing off after the first couple, holding conferences in Pandemonium on how to despoil Earth and corrupt humans. I was left behind, like the forgotten pet. Hung around for a century or two, hoping someone would remember me. Michael finally spotted me and chased me out.

I'll bet that was a scene.

Oh yes. I can sprint as well as slither at speed. And you angels aren't exactly speed demons.

Tch. Really my dear. Tell me that wasn't intentional.

Crowley smirks.

At any rate, I had to extend my wings to flap over the wall to make my escape from his damned burning sword.

Which wing set did you use?

The demonic pterosaur ones. Took off like a winged reptile. Better in the heat. For obvious reasons, of course.

Where did you go?

I don't remember what little camp I finally landed in. That desert was bloody hot. Took me days to traverse it. Fortunately by then the humans had invented wine. I went through two full amphorae, or whatever they were calling their clay baskets at the time. Human males swank around like they're geniuses, but it's the females who've had most of the best ideas. Starting with alcohol.

Eve's legacy, no doubt.

Yep. Didn't catch up with you until just before The Flood. Then you got transferred to China, Ammun took over the Mediterranean, and I had to hang around with the Phoenicians and Philistines. I was so happy when you got transferred back to The Levant. Was hard to hook up with you even then, though.

Indeed. They had me traipsing around frightful wildernesses with humans herding goats. And sheep. And donkeys. And camels. All hairy and smelly. Animal crap everywhere. Itchy clothing. Lice. Atrocious food. I never ever, ever want to eat manna or a locust again for all eternity. And then the Heavenly Host smited the only decent party towns.

Oil massages. Fine linen. Date wine cocktails. Kebabs. That Egyptian beekeeper and her honeycomb. Palm groves with actual shade. Fucking Heavenly Host.

Bastards, the lot of them. More scotch, please.

Crowley pours refills, and they clink glasses.

Bollocks to Heaven.

They sip quietly for some while. Then Crowley reminisces further:

Rome was fun, wasn't it?

My word, yes. I was thrilled to be assigned to a big city at last. And then you showed up. It was perfect.

Don't believe I've ever eaten so many oysters since.

And dormice. With that sweet Samian wine for dessert.

Couldn't take the baths, though.

Lord no. The Romans were far too tolerant of filth.

Not to mention the assgrabbery. As if. The mere thought of consorting with a human . . .

Crowley shudders.

More reflective sipping before Aziraphale continues:

And then Michael shipped me off to Londinium. Once it became apparent that Nero was heading south in a major way. As if it was my fault.

Humans do manage to pervert just about anything, don't they. Look what he did with your little music lessons. Caligula got me a commendation, though. And I didn't do a damned thing. Spent the whole time wandering the streets, finding places to go carousing with you.

Aziraphale downs the rest of his scotch in one long gulp.

Pour me a refill, will you please, Crowley?

You know, oysters Rockefeller is a pretty good replay of that stuff Petronius used to dish up. We could go to Falmouth this coming weekend. Someone's sure to be serving it there.

With a bottle each of King of Soho gin. It's perfect with fresh oysters.

Ah yes. Gin. The Romans were 1500 years too soon for that particular delight.

Human inventiveness is a wonderful thing, isn't it? Rather makes up for the rest of their frightful behavior.

Crowley is silent for some while, looking thoughtful. Then he stands up, sheds his dressing gown, walks around the couch and back over to his massive stone desk. Flicks a finger to clear it. Lies down upon his back, hands behind his head. The chill marble feels wonderful against his hot body.

Come and know me, Aziraphale, as they say in the Bible. Pretend we're back on the Eastern Wall.