Adam was busy with school all week. Apparently, being omniscient hadn't saved God the oversight of planning this little family reunion while school was in session. So, Yeshua filled his days with deconstructing Aziraphale's bookshop, under the continued assurance that he was making improvements.
Aziraphale's nerves already frayed to the breaking point, he and Crowley spent most of the afternoon on Tuesday patrolling the neighborhood, on the lookout for Azazel. Only to return to find that construction had moved on to the kitchen.
"Where's the oven gone?" Crowley demanded.
"Somewhere that it can never hurt another living soul ever again," Yeshua told him from under the sink.
oOoOoOoOo
Wednesday afternoon's canvassing of local shops ended with a return to the flat to find that the kitchen cupboards had gone the way of the bookshelves.
"So help me, Jesus," Aziraphale threatened, "if you've damaged a single cookbook."
"All safely boxed downstairs with the rest," Yeshua assured him.
oOoOoOoOo
Thursday it was the kitchen table that was gone.
"Oh, for the love of," Crowley shouted. "Yeshua!"
But, the Son of God was beyond their wrath- on the roof again, singing loudly over the banging of his hammer.
"IMAGINE ALLLLL THE PEOPLE, LIVING LIFE IN PEACE."
"I'll give him peace, a piece of my mind," Aziraphale grumbled, but Crowley put a restraining hand on his shoulder.
"Leave it, angel. What's the use at this point?"
"What's the use? What's the use?" Aziraphale exploded. "Tomorrow we'll come home and find that he's taken out a wall, or ripped up the flooring. I thought he was supposed to be fixing things, not destroying them."
"It's a process."
"I can't live like this, Crowley," Aziraphale said, flinching each time that the hammer fell.
"I still have the flat in Mayfair, we could go there for a few days, let him get on with whatever he's doing. Come back when the construction is over."
"Oh, and what are we supposed to tell God, when He asks us why His Son is being pestered by Satan's concubine while we're supposed to be keeping an eye on him?"
"We haven't seen horn or feather of Azazel since Yeshua sent him packing. Maybe he's given up."
"Do you really think so?" Aziraphale asked.
Crowley shrugged, not really thinking it would be that easy.
oOoOoOoOo
Azazel hadn't given up.
He'd spent a few days sulking and licking his wounds, but he was ready to get right back on that Christing bicycle- just as soon as he thought of a different angle of approach.
Revealing his demonic nature had clearly been a mistake, and he was definitely not looking forward to reporting that failure to Lucifer. So, he was just going to have to make some headway before The Prince of Darkness decided to check in again.
In the meantime, he endeavored to make himself a pleasant houseguest. He walked Dog while Adam was at school. He spent a few demonic miracles on the laundry and dishes. He bought takeaway so that Adam had a warm meal to come home to at the end of the day. For his efforts, Azazel received suspicious looks and questions about his motives. That was okay. He was a demon; demons couldn't go around expecting people to trust them- even if that person happened to be their son.
But, tomorrow was Friday, and Adam had plans to return to Soho after class ended for the week, so if Azazel wanted to get any work done without Adam getting in the way, he'd have to think of something quickly.
He just had no idea where to go from here. He'd run the gamut of human sexual depravity, or at least the more interesting highlights, and Jesus hadn't hit on any of it. Carnal temptation might not be the correct approach, but Azazel's range of experience had never progressed much past tempting his mark into bed, giving them a thorough tumble, and moving on to the next. Why fix perfection, after all? But, it seemed that the Son of God was immune to his charms, and if he was going to have to branch out into new areas of sin after all these millennia, then he figured he'd better have some more specific information to go on.
That was how Adam came home from class that day to find Azazel sprawled out on the couch, wearing elbow-length, red, satin gloves- not with some new, disgusting pornography that Adam would have preferred not to know existed, but instead cracking the spine on a copy of the New Testament.
Azazel looked up at a clicking sound and a flash of light. "What are you doing?" He asked.
"Just collecting blackmail material," Adam said, returning his phone to his pocket. "What are you doing?"
"Trying to get through this thing," Azazel said, tossing the bible down with a disgusted noise. "Either Jesus Christ is the most boring person who ever lived, or Mathew, Mark, Luke, and John need to take some remedial writing classes."
"And what about that?" Adam asked, looking pointedly at the silicone wristband that stood out glaringly purple against the red satin gloves—"WWJD?" written upon it in white, block letters.
"Oh," Azazel held his wrist up. "Do you like it? The lady at the Christian bookshop gave it to me. It means: what would Jesus do? Apparently, the answer is spout off a lot of incomprehensible parables about the Kingdom of Heaven, and then die a gruesome death. Apart from a bit of necromancy and a snappy comeback about people in glass houses throwing stones, there isn't a whole lot for me to work with here."
"You went to a Christian bookshop? Isn't that against the rules?"
"You would think so, but that place was a temple to commerce and capitalism if I ever saw one. The book still stings a bit though," he added, wiggling his fingers to show Adam his gloves, "thus, the protection."
"Of course," Adam said. "Moneylenders in the temple?"
"That was a bit wrathful, I guess," Azazel said. "Not sure I want to tempt him to wrath though."
"I think righteous anger is different than wrath," Adam said. "Does this mean that you've given up on seducing him?"
Azazel sighed. "I don't know. I suppose I'll just head back over there, and keep an eye on him until inspiration strikes."
"You're going back to London, now? What about lunch?"
"I made you a sandwich," Azazel said, smiling at him. "It's in the fridge."
oOoOoOoOo
Yeshua was adding to Crowley's new collection of orchids that evening. He was just zipping up his trousers, and watching pale pink blooms open on the newest addition, when the plant suddenly burst into flame.
"Oh, hey Dad," Yeshua said.
"Don't you, 'hey Dad,' me," a disapproving female voice said from the burning orchid. "I sent you down there to talk sense into Adam, not for a vacation."
"I'm trying."
"Oh really?" God said, sarcastically. "Do I have to read off your credit card transactions?"
Yeshua winced. "Adam is busy with his dinosaur classes during the week. I needed something to keep me busy. I thought I'd just update Aziraphale and Crowley's flat a little while I'm here. You know, as a way to say thank you."
"And it didn't occur to you that studying dinosaurs might be just the sort of thing that you should be steering him away from?"
"I tried to explain," Yeshua defended, "but it just made him angry. He's very serious about his studies."
"I know everything that's going on down there," She said ominously. "Perhaps you need to try a bit harder. Stop the home renovations and get back to work."
"I really don't think he's going to budge on the dinosaur thing."
A ficus, a fig tree, and three more orchids burst into flame. "JESUS CHRIST, I AM NOT ASKING FOR YOUR OPINION. I AM TELLING YOU TO DO YOUR JOB!"
"Okay, okay, Jeez. Lay off the Voice of God thing before you blow my eardrums out, and have the whole block bleeding out of their eyeballs. I'll go talk to him some more today, but I'm not mentioning the dinosaur thing again. He's really tetchy about it. If you want him to listen to me at all, you have to forget about the dinosaurs. Just let it go as an eccentricity—crazy little Adam the Antichrist and his giant lizards."
"Fine," She said. "Do it your way. Just see that the boy understands."
Yeshua nodded, and then, realizing that she couldn't see him, said, "Yes, Father."
"I can see you, and I know what you're thinking. I'm omniscient, remember?"
"Right. So, then you know about the…" Yeshua trailed off.
"The demon trying to corrupt you with wildly inventive sex acts? Yes."
"I don't know that it was that inventive," Yeshua said. "I met a harlot in Ptolemais who said that for five shekels she would suck a-"
"Don't finish that sentence," God interrupted. "You really are completely oblivious. It almost makes me feel sorry for Azazel. Maybe I should just bring Adam up here, and send you down to work with Lucifer for a few millennia instead."
Yeshua let his mouth fall closed.
There was a long sigh from the bonfire of houseplants. "The answer to the question you want to ask is no."
"But, would it really hurt anyone if I just-"
The rest of Crowley's plants burst into flame. "NO!"
"All right. All right. Relax. Forget I asked. Doesn't seem fair, everyone else gets to go around, spending their shekels however they like, and I can't even-"
"If you would like to spend the rest of eternity in Hell, feel free to do whatever you like."
"Yeah, fine," Yeshua mumbled.
"Get back to work," God said, and then the fire roared high, and went out, leaving only charred plant matter behind.
Far too late to do any good, the smoke detectors started to go off.
There was some crashing and banging, and a moment later, Crowley emerged into the hallway, a bed sheet wrapped around his waist. "What's going on?" he asked. "Is there a fi- fuck! What happened to my plants?"
Yeshua winced. "Dad called."
"Da- Dad? God damn it." Crowley took another step toward the bathroom, surveying the damage with a horrified look. He pulled his sunglasses off in a rage, and turned his angry gaze upward. "Haven't you ever heard of a telephone? Doesn't anyone in your family have an ounce of common fucking courtesy? That's two centuries of carefully cultivated fear destroyed in an instant! Do you have any idea how much work it takes to keep that many plants in line? The hours that I've spent watering, and pruning, and threatening to turn them all into salad?" Crowley scoffed. "But, what do you care? It's all the same to you. One little Word from your lips, and you can make an Eden wherever you like. Never mind me."
"Sorry," Yeshua said.
"Not your fault." Crowley put a hand on his shoulder, and addressed the ceiling again. "Try using the phone next time!" He looked back at Yeshua thoughtfully. "Thirsty?" he asked.
"I have to go back to Oxford now," Yeshua said. "Dad thinks I'm not spending enough time with Adam. Do you mind if I borrow the Bentley?"
"Yes," Crowley said, still surveying Vegetageddon with horrified numbness. "Get your own car."
Yeshua didn't think that he'd be able to buy one with his credit card. "Could you give me a ride then?"
"Can't it wait until tomorrow?"
"Not if I don't want Her to call back."
"I promised Aziraphale that we could go see A Midsummer Night's Dream tonight, while the Royal Shakespeare Company is still in town. He's angry enough with you already. If we have to miss it to take you to Oxford, I'll never hear the end of it. You'll just have to take public transportation."
"What about Azazel?"
"If you run into him, I'm sure he'll offer you a ride."
"That isn't funny, Crowley."
Crowley smirked. "It was a little bit funny."
oOoOoOoOo
Adam paced his flat, holding his mobile in one hand. Crowley's face looked back at him from the screen, and the green call button glared at him, accusingly.
He should let Crowley and Aziraphale know that Azazel was on Earth and tasked with seducing Yeshua, but he really didn't want to take sides. Still, letting Azazel kip on his couch was sort of taking sides, wasn't it? And, if Adam was going to take sides, was Hell really the side that he wanted to take?
On the other hand, he'd also spent the day with Yeshua on Sunday, so it wasn't as if he was playing favorites. If he wanted to let Azazel stay with him for a couple weeks, that didn't mean he was actively working against Yeshua, just that he wasn't actively working against Azazel. He was uninvolved. He was neutral. He was Switzerland.
Of course, if he was on any side at all, it was the side of Earth, so he should really let Aziraphale and Crowley know what was going on.
No. No. He didn't owe any of them anything. All they ever did was cause trouble complicate his life.
He was Switzerland.
He put the phone down.
He groaned.
He picked the phone up again.
oOoOoOoOo
Crowley held the door to the Bentley open for Aziraphale. He was in full hat and tails, and he had to take the top hat off to get into the car.
Yeshua stood in front of the shop, watching them.
"Did you find a ride?" Crowley asked him. "We could drop you at the bus station."
"No, that's all right. Someone is on their way."
He raised a brow at that, but before he could ask, the roar of an engine drowned out all other sound on the busy street. Crowley turned to look for the source of the noise, and beheld a pale motorbike with a pale rider upon it, and the rider's name was Death, a trouble followed with him.
The motorbike skidded around the Bentley and came to a stop in front of Yeshua, and the rider pulled back his hood to reveal the grinning skull beneath.
"LONG TIME, NO SEE," he said to Yeshua in a voice like the sound of a million mortal bonds being severed.
"Thanks again for the ride," Yeshua said, as he climbed onto the back of the bike.
Crowley watched in disbelief, as Yeshua gave him a wave and the two sped off. He shook his head and got into the Bentley.
"Was that-?" Aziraphale asked.
"Yeah," Crowley said.
"Do you think that's a good idea, letting Yeshua hitch a ride with Death?"
"Probably not," Crowley said.
"Should we…"
"We're going to watch a bunch of fairies cast love spells on stupid humans," Crowley said. "Yeshua is off with The Angel of Death. Not our fault if something happens to him. Let old boney answer to God, if he gets carried away."
"Right," Aziraphale agreed. "I'm sure that God will understand."
"At least we don't have to worry about him getting seduced," Crowley said.
Aziraphale made an uncertain noise in the back of his throat.
Crowley's phone rang.
