London. Crowley's Mayfair flat. Crowley is excited about the just-delivered Michel Ducaroy sofa.
Crowley, I love the color! Such a beautiful, rich red.
And feel the fabric – it's called "Alcantara."
Feels like suede.
Only better. You can read all about it on Wikipedia later. Let's try It out.
Exchanging a significant glance with one another, they plop themselves onto the sofa, snapping fingers to remove clothing, huddling companionably side by side and holding hands.
I say, this feels wonderful.
Would you say "luxurious"?
Quite.
Crowley twists himself around to lay atop Aziraphale's chest, head on the angel's shoulder, one hand clutching a fuzzy pectoral muscle.
Hold me, Aziraphale.
Aziraphale hugs the demon, one hand stroking his velvety fade and running fingers through the quiff. Crowley sighs.
Angel. You read the Celestial Observer, right?
Yes. That was quite the headline yesterday. I compared the coverage with your copy of Infernal Times. Both pieces were remarkably cagey about just who was responsible.
No one fingered me?
I think the reporters wanted to. Score one for Hell on the one side, versus blame demonic activity on the other. But instead, the Times directly blamed humans. And the Observer would only speculate about possible demonic activity.
Hell got it right. The Heavenly Host just cannot get their heads around the possibility that they were outsmarted by humans. That Heaven was merely another organization targeted by human criminal hacker groups.
One of which you just happen to be the co-owner of.
Crowley smiles sinfully.
Yes. That is one side of our operations.
And the other side?
Security against criminal hacking groups.
Crowley, you are so resolutely devious.
The demon nuzzles Aziraphale's neck.
Mmmmmm. Thank you, Angel. I love it when you murmur sweet nothings.
Crowley tenses.
That doesn't mean both sides aren't out to get me, of course. You know what you say about evil plans.
That they always contain the seeds of their own destruction?
Yeah. Remember when I called you the night I had to deliver the baby Antichrist? Had to call you from Tadfield, using what was probably the last public phone booth within a hundred miles of London. Because I'd spent the evening disrupting the entire mobile phone system and couldn't call you from my car.
I never knew that, Crowley.
Then there was the whole Odegra disaster. I worked so hard to get the London orbital motorway to be the literal representation of that dread sigil. Was so proud of myself. Christo has nothing on me. And then I got trapped by the burning circle of fire and destroyed the Bentley getting through. While virtuous you just flew over it on a fucking scooter.
Yes. That was quite a neat miracle, wasn't it? Considering I was sharing a human body.
Crowley grins.
On the bright side, I did discorporate Hastur by driving through the flames.
The demon's face once again lapses into anxiety.
I'm scared, Aziraphale. Taking down Heaven's data system is a whole other level of enterprise. I expect to be hunted like a wet fox.
Crowley shudders and clutches harder at the angel's chest. Aziraphale places his hand over the demon's, gently pulls it away and locks fingers.
Why did you do it, Crowley.
I couldn't help it. Never expected to find such a fat pigeon sitting right out there in the open. Heaven was just begging for it.
What ransom are you demanding?
We thought ten million pounds was a reasonable offer to restore the database. One pound per angel.
Will you – what is the term – unencrypt the data if you're paid?
Course not. I'm a demon. We negotiate a slightly lower price, take the money, then completely fry the data.
Surely they're not such fools?
We're talking the Heavenly Host, angel. My money is on their taking the bait. Money means nothing to them. It would be irrational for them to not at least try to recover the data.
Point taken
Data deletion would only be from Heaven's system, of course. We have it backed up. What little I've seen so far seems likely to be very saleable piecemeal to Hell.
I'm beginning to understand exactly why you're so worried.
Crowley shudders again.
Kiss me, Angel. Tell me you love me. That you don't loathe me because I'm evil.
[Sex scene continued in "New Sofa" chapter of Crowley Gets a New Look]