Disclaimer: I don't own Good Omens in any of its incarnations. Duh. It'd have 900% more angst otherwise. A. N. For the prompt "Sea". I know I know, I use the spelling Colombo here instead of Columbus. But he was Italian, and I'm Italian, so. We let Drake be Drake, not Anser (Latin version of its meaning), Papero (Italian translation) or Dreik (spell it like it's pronounced for Her sake!). Deal with the spelling for me, please?
Overconfidence tastes bittersweet
Crowley loitered near the port. It was a spectacle in its own way, and he'd contributed to make it possible. Well, back when he still listened to Mum. She'd organized things, and – of course – hadn't bloody explained herself. Just overlooked his artistic flair, while he painted the dark with stars, and rarely, so rarely he hadn't bothered to protest, demanded he move this or that one. "A little closer to each other, sweetheart," or, "Send this my way a little, will you?"
Just because he hadn't protested, it didn't mean that he hadn't asked why. How could he not? And fine, maybe he'd frowned the slightest bit, because he liked them just where they were, and what was up with Her? Why was it always position that drew her dissatisfaction? Naturally, all she'd ever said was, "Because I'd like it better," or, "Because I asked you to." Would it have killed her to explain herself for once?
Earth wasn't even a thing yet. How was he supposed to guess navigation in (and eventually from) a random point in the universe mattered? If he'd known, he could have polished things better. Made everything even clearer, and prettier. But it wouldn't have been Mum's style.
He shook his head, trying to get Her out of his mind. What he needed now was Aziraphale, but who knew where upstairs had sent him, this time. And Crowley really wanted to watch this – he felt a certain kinship for the new Admiral. You had to give it to Colombo: for all his flaws, the man knew how to haggle the most advantageous contract, just like his fellow citizens. But the rest? He'd planned his trip on excessive confidence and miscalculations.
Only someone who managed to get the wrong result to estimations well known for over a millennium, and still believe they'd corrected a long-standing error, would have done something so reckless. Sure, Crowley's old work had made possible more adventurous sailing than mere coasting, and in fact other people had and undoubtedly would do the same. But the Italian didn't know any of this. And while Crowley would never admit it to a soul, not even to his angel, overconfident idiot fit his past self all too well.
So sure that if he just kept it up, She'd eventually cave in and explain – justify Herself, even. That She'd realise that the whole forbidden fruit shenanigan was a nonsensical idea, and not giving it a fake name if She was serious about it was twice as silly. He'd have had a much harder time persuading anyone to eat from the tree of eternal self-shitting, for example.
But he'd been wrong, and here he was, watching the other proudly set out – to be wrong, too. At least Colombo would find a silver lining before he destroyed himself and everyone with him, which would lead to even more messes, Crowley was sure. Maybe he could claim a hand in whatever atrocity would follow? (He loved that you could always count on humans being awful to each other. It really gave him so much extra free time.) Crowley's silver lining had a proper name, instead, and wasn't here today...and soon would have one less use for him.
Fine, it had been evil of him to discover deliciousness, share it...and yet refuse to tell his angel where it came from. If the winged snake requested cocoa, the winged snake was going to get it. As for other offerings...there had been some miscommunication, and anyway, Beelzebub hadn't stopped smiling at him for a month. Which had been creepy as...hell, actually. But then Hastur had snitched on his changed requests, which lead to Not Pleased higher ups and an utterly annoyed Crowley, who had to babble something on the spot, enough to placate them.
Crowley was fleetingly tempted to sink the ships in order to protect his monopoly, but the more it was shared, the more creations would be inspired by the precious bean. Even if he lost the exclusive on angel bait (and might even have to face a few decades of pouting for having kept his secret this long ), he could still introduce Aziraphale to the new combinations. He'd just have to stay alert and keep on top of food innovation.
Not distracted by his planning anymore, he looked up again. The three ships flew towards the horizon.