It was nearly 2 a.m. when Adam had finally finished sorting through the last of the endless trays of fossil specimens, categorizing each and taking down notations before storing them away for the next batch of undergraduates to mess them all up again.

He was walking across campus to his car, daydreaming over how nice it would be to have an ordinary life without the complications brought about by unexpected visitations by biblical figures who dismissed your academic pursuits as a practical joke, or made sappy cow-eyes at each other, while slinging about innuendo that wasn't that many steps removed from actual pornography, and expected you not to understand what they were talking about.

The quiet of the deserted campus was broken by the flutter of wings, a dark shadow against the blackened sky, and then Azazel made a God-damned super hero landing in front of him on the grass- wings stretched out in a exaggerated pose on either side, and long mane of silver curls blown out in a non-existent wind.

Adam sighed.

"What are you doing here, Azazel?" he asked.

He straightened dramatically, folding his wings away out of existence.

"Your father is concerned over the Christ's presence on Earth," he said. His voice as obnoxious as the rest of him, a commanding boom.

"My father is an accountant. I'm pretty sure the only things he's concerned over are unbalanced ledgers and tax percentages."

"You persist in clinging to your mortal bonds."

"Yeah," Adam said. "I'm stubborn that way- caring about the people I love."

Azazel scowled, marring his fine features. "The fairies are keeping him in their stronghold, but I am told that he spoke to you today."

Adam bristled. "Fairies? That's a bit hypocritical, coming from you. Considering the things you and Lucifer get up to. Or, does he make you adopt a feminine aspect for your little playtimes? Keep everything on the straight and narrow?"

Azazel dropped his act of demonic superiority in his confusion. "Of course, we… keep things interesting through variety. We aren't… limited by the constraints of… human biology. Why do you want to know?"

Adam ran a hand over his face. "I don't. I really, really, don't."

Azazel's confusion deepened. "Then, why do you ask?"

"I think we're missing something in the translation here," Adam said, narrowing his eyes. "You called Aziraphale and Crowley fairies. If you weren't discriminating their relationship, what did you mean?"

"They are immortal, supernatural, beings of Earth, with wings. I had come to understand that the humans called such creatures fairies. Is this incorrect? Are they some special type of bird?"

Adam laughed and shook his head. "No, I guess they're definitely fairies. Hit the nail on the head with that one." He huffed out another residual laugh, at the anticipation of bringing it up in conversation, and sighed. "What do you want with me, Azazel? It's been a long day. I'm exhausted. Get to the point."

"What did the Christ discuss with you today?"

"Mostly obscure, out of date, television and movie references, and dinosaurs."

"Your father does not approve of your interest in the terrible lizards."

"Actually, my dad thinks dinosaurs are pretty interesting." Adam crossed his arms over his chest.

"Lucifer," Azazel amended coolly, "wishes you would devote your energies to other pursuits."

"He can wish all he wants," Adam said. "It's none of his business."

"Do you know why Jesus is on Earth?" Azazel asked, clearly knowing a losing argument when he saw one.

"Same thing the rest of you want, apparently" Adam said. "He's here to wind me up and take the piss."

"He wants your urine?" Azazel asked. "What is he going to do with it?"

"That part is the mystery," Adam said, quite seriously. "Why don't you see if you can figure it out?" Adam brushed past Azazel and continued on his way to his car.

Azazel went to find a library to break into, for research.

oOoOoOo

Aziraphale woke with Yeshua snuggled in against his chest, and Crowley's arm slung over both of them. The Christ was snoring like a bear with a head cold.

"You awake, angel?" Crowley asked.

"I don't see how anyone could sleep through this racket," Aziraphale answered.

"A few minutes ago, he had a nice little angelic chorus."

"I do not snore."

"You do," Crowley said, and Aziraphale could hear the smirk in his voice. "Not like this, mind," he added, as Yeshua inhaled a particularly nasally intake of breath, "but you do snore- cute little angelic whistles through your nose."

"You're lying."

"Could be," Crowley said. "If you felt like joining the rest of us in the 21st century, you could record yourself and find out."

"I have no need for electronics," Aziraphale said. "It's just a passing fad."

"Yeah, humans always give up on things that make their lives easier," he said with a snort. "Technological age, indeed. I'm sure it will all blow over in a few years."

"They're always staring into those little screens. It can't be good for them."

"All the knowledge of the world at your fingertips, angel," Crowley said suggestively.

"I already have all the knowledge of the world at my fingertips," Aziraphale argued. "I own a bookshop, and books don't require electricity."

"And, digital books don't burn," Crowley pointed out.

"It just isn't the same." Aziraphale shifted, and Yeshua let out a loud snore, before rolling onto his back and falling blessedly quiet. "Want to explain to me why I have the Son of God in my bed?"

"He didn't want to be alone last night," Crowley said. He had a note of sadness in his voice, and while Aziraphale had been feeling a bit cross at the whole scenario, the irritation melted away at the tone of concern.

"You don't mind, do you?" Crowley asked.

"I suppose not," Aziraphale allowed.

"Good," Crowley said. "We should probably make the bed a little bigger for tomorrow night though. I feel like a sardine."

"Tomorrow night?" Aziraphale repeated.

"He has emotional scarring," Crowley said. "Your lot really did a number on him with the whole martyrdom thing. You can hardly blame him."

"They aren't my lot any more than they are yours now, and a single night is one thing, but two weeks of this is quite another. How are we supposed to get any alone time?"

Crowley rose up on one elbow to look down at Aziraphale. "Are you calling Jesus Christ a cock block?"

Aziraphale flushed. "If the shoe fits."

Crowley smirked, and reached an arm over Yeshua to give Aziraphale's thigh a squeeze. "I'm sure we can work around him."

"Crowley," Aziraphale hissed.

At the same time Yeshua said, "You know I'm awake, right?"

And, Crowley smirked.

oOoOoOo

Yeshua was waiting in line at the Kosher Bakery. He was perfectly happy eating bread with yeast in it. The whole point of matzah was the ceremony behind it. It didn't actually taste that good, at least not the way his mother had made it. He was hungover, and he'd borrowed Crowley's sunglasses to spare his aching head from the light of day, but even with the near black-out cover that the side-shields provided, he mostly wanted to find a nice dark tomb to lie in for a few days.

Given that Crowley and Aziraphale needed some alone time though, he had thought he'd best make himself scarce for a while, and buying some fresh bread seemed as good an excuse as any.

"Hello there," a musical voice asked from behind him. "You look like a fellow who enjoys water sports."

Yeshua turned to look at the man standing behind him in the queue. He was fine-boned and tall with a thick head of silver curls.

"Water sports?" Yeshua asked. He supposed this was what passed for small talk in the 21st century. "I grew up in the dessert actually. We didn't have a lot of that sort of thing."

The man's lips curved into a smile. "I've never had any experience with that sort of thing either, but I'm willing to try anything once."

"New experiences are the spice of life," Yeshua agreed, and took a step forward as the next customer was helped. The man edged in close as he moved forward as well.

"Would you like to find somewhere to give it a try, then?" he asked in a whisper.

"Sorry," Yeshua said. "I'm meeting my nephew this afternoon. We're going to try something called ice-cream. It's supposed to be really good."

The man frowned. "I haven't researched that."

"Look into it," Yeshua advised. "It might be worth trying, if everything I've heard is true."

The man grinned again. "I certainly will."

Yeshua smiled back at him, and moved forward again, next in line at the counter. "Well, it was nice talking to you. I'm Yeshua, by the way."

"Az," the man started, and then coughed. "Asher."

"Nice to meet you Asher," Yeshua said, and turned away to step up to the counter.

"I'll see you later," Asher said, but when Yeshua turned back, he was gone.

oOoOoOo

Adam watched as Yeshua's face morphed from startled surprise to pleased enjoyment. "Good?" he asked with a laugh.

Yeshua made noises of agreement as he took another mouthful of his strawberry cone.

They were in Saint James's Park. Adam had met them there, not quite wanting to end up at the mercy of Crowley's driving. He wanted his car near at hand, just in case he felt the need to make a quick escape. With Azazel on Earth, he wasn't sure how much he trusted this little outing not to turn into something else. Part of him thought that he should tell Yeshua about the demon asking questions about him, but most of him wanted to remain neutral in the whole thing.

Crowley finished paying for their cones and came to stand beside them with his own iced lolly. He smiled fondly at Yeshua's pink mustache.

"We need to go feed the ducks," Aziraphale said.

"We do not," Crowley argued. "They're wild animals. They're supposed to be foraging for plants and whatever, not getting fat on handouts."

"They worry if they don't see us every now and again," Aziraphale said, "and I have some matzah in my pocket left over from those terrible B.L.T.s that you insisted we have for breakfast."

"Yeshua liked them."

"I'm quite sure that Yeshua would eat a charcoal briquette as long as you put it on a plate for him and soaked it in bacon grease first. I doubt he would even notice the difference."

"You let Crowley cook for you, and you actually ate it?" Adam asked Yeshua in an aside, impressed at the messiah's intestinal fortitude even more so now than over the crucifixion.

He'd tried to help Crowley make dinner for Aziraphale one time. That disaster had gone straight in the bin, and Adam had helped Crowley find the number for a good sushi place that did take away instead. The crucifixion was just an abstract concept to Adam. Crowley's cooking, on the other hand, was something he had real, tangible, experience with. He could practically smell it.

"I didn't want to be impolite," Yeshua said in a whisper, while Aziraphale and Crowley continued to argue about ducks. "It really is terrible; isn't it?"